Contradictions
by CrazyHat
Summary: Soldier, keep on marching on. Go ahead and piece the world back together in a stupid and self-destructing way. OC White Fang member
1. Contradictions

First and foremost, my knowledge on RWBY is a bit shaky. I only know the RWBY universe from mainly fanfictions and AMVs. I don't consider myself a good author by any means so I welcome any attempts at criticism. If something is not clear, feel free to ask me about it. I'm really sucky at a lot of things like dialogue so if you got any tips/pointers feel free to DM me or just reply in the thread.

It won't be entirely canon as I plan to implement a major upset happening within the RWBY universe. Another fanfic briefly touched upon what I wanted to do but it diverged into another direction. For this story, I was mainly inspired by one AMV in particular: RWBY: Jaune Arc: The Soldier

Feel free to check the AMV out (it's not my mine though I wish it was since it's amazing)

Hopefully viewing the chapters will work as intended (Using .rtf files now)

 **Contradictions**

 **Chapter 1**

I didn't seek out death despite the objections of my would-be observer. The number of times the woman would fuss when addressing the occasional flesh wounds couldn't be counted on both hands; but even if it could, I lacked both the knowledge and the interest in doing so at the time.

When I first saw her, I considered her to be an oddity.

That clear white, almost translucent color she had for skin confused me. The white cape that surrounded her, accented her otherworldliness especially as it billowed back and forth from the dust-marred gusts. The golden hair adorning her shoulders made her seem almost as one of those mythical characters the older men would speak of in hushed tones when they gathered around a fire. The sheer contrast between the vibrant colors the interloper brought and the dull, lifeless brown hue that I had become accustomed to since birth unnerved me. It's a shame that she would soon be brought to our level, especially considering the nature of the two men that flanked her side.

I held a curiosity concerning the woman and her unusual appearance but that had soon been forgotten as more orders were relayed to me. I was wound up like a toy and sent my way to a war where my enemy was decided for me.

I fought and fought even as the bodies of my men on my side whose names no longer held any meaning obstructed my path as they dropped. I paid it no mind just as I had done before and continued forward, digging my feet upon their corpses for better footing. My Commander's shouts and screams that resembled some kind of motivational chant played second to the constant whistles of the bullets tearing past me.

I didn't understand what duty I had nor whom I was enacting my duty against but I continued nonetheless. The comfortable weight of the gun, nestled within the grasp of my arms, pounded against my chest as my body surged toward the onslaught of carnage. I ran with a burst of familiar energy that only made itself available in times of need. The lazy expression I would wear lifted itself and transformed into a maddening face that held no shred of hesitation. My eyes no longer hid behind their lids and stared unabashedly at what had bloomed from our efforts in the war. Darting from left to right, my eyes complimented the predatory smile I had plastered on my face.

—

Imagine my surprise when I caught glimpses of golden strands of hair across the camp after returning home from the bloody venture.

She stayed secluded from the rest of the men, staying in her own little tent by the outskirts of the camp. . I didn't expect her to still be alive. At all times she was guarded, naturally so, as the men, loyal as they may be, were still tempted by their desires. Even though her presence unnerved me, I knew better than to question it. I knew my place. She was here for a reason and in time, I too would know

A man far above my age called out, repeating several times over a word unrecognizable to my ears. I could hear his annoyance as he continued sounding off. Spittle flew off his mouth, running down his lips and falling tragically onto the ground, wetting the soil that lay beneath us.

That reminds me - I'm thirsty.

I walked forward heading to my station wanting to soothe my eyes with a blanket of darkness and rest the frantic beating of my heart. I made slow steps, feeling the hard grooves of the rocks embedded within the dirt and uneven surfaces of the ground. I enjoyed gliding my feet over it all, thinking that maybe I wasn't so -

I stumbled back, mildly confused and disturbed. Something from behind me yanked my body with such a force that I had been broken from my thought.

Ah, it was the Commander. I could recognize that expression he had on his face even though I was considerably less proficient in displaying my emotions.

Oh..oh no, he's angry.

He grabbed my chin with his right hand and brought my line of sight to his own. He yelled something undecipherable once again.

"?#%*.!" he said… I think.

He pushed his right hand forward and released his hold over my chin. I stumbled back once again but held still as he looked up and down at my figure. His eyes darted to a specific spot on my body, namely the left of my stomach and then lifted my shirt. He exhaled a breath and looked at me once again while lightly touching my skin.

I bit down on a small part of my lip and fidgeted in place. The Commander was no fool and saw what he had done.

"Go to the woman now," the Commander said. I was about to question what woman the Commander was referring to but squashed that immediate impulse. What other woman could the Commander be referring to I sarcastically thought to myself.

I silently nodded and did what I was told to do. What the Commander wanted, the Commander got. I was his tool after all.

—

I remember the first time we met. It wasn't any sort of grandiose event, I mean how could it be when considering our circumstances.

I moved towards the tent only to be stopped by the guard who motioned for my gun. Hesitantly, I gave it up and continued on to accomplish Commander 's order.

Her back was turned towards me. She hadn't noticed my arrival.

I stomped the ground and looked forward.

The illustrious figure I had first seen was a long shot from the woman who stood before me. No longer was she a perfect being, dressed in immaculate and unstained clothing. The past weeks had taken a toll on her. The once white coat had been marked with crusts of dirt. Her bright blonde hair was now matted with dust and shone considerably less. A strange red emblem on her left breast-pocket that fitted her coat resembled several streaks of dried blood. Those tearful eyes that were filled with such emotion had now been driven to a pitiful state of resignation, not unlike those who realized where their end laid.

She didn't look so odd now.


	2. Annoying Healer

**Chapter 2**

She wore an expression I recognized once again—one that passersby's would take on as they looked at us from a distance. Always watching, even in times of battle, and yet for all the pity they threw our way, they seemed content to watch from afar.

Click, click, click. The sound was tolerable even when it transformed to the low purring of a mechanical beast when multiple observers would join in. After years serving under the Commander, I had developed a dislike to having things pointed at me. I understood it wasn't a weapon - that much was made clear when the Commander would berated us for stopping our progress even when the observers were to our back. No point in killing them if he said they weren't our enemy.

I looked at them, raised my gun and gave a little wave showing off a toothy smile. Most of them flinched back, one even going as far as to momentarily lose his footing and stumble to his side.

Life was about enjoying the little things.

I turned and ignored the tingling sensation running along my back from their prodding stares.

Some part of me envied them, not for their seemingly peaceful lives as they stood a distance from us taking pictures of who we were, what we stood for, what we've done, but for their status as observers.

Maybe that's why the woman that stood in front of me annoyed me so much. She looked at me those pitiful eyes even though she no longer held the status as an observer. Whether willing or not, her status had been ripped apart from her and now she was downgraded to the title of "player". She had no right to shower me with pity. I wasn't a victim and I never will be. I'm me - though admittedly, I'm not quite sure as to what that means.

I coughed to drag her attention from the musing she seemed to find herself in. I wouldn't be punished by the Commander for her inattentiveness.

She looked at me, her eyes muddy with confusion and spoke the first words of our short-lived encounter.

"I wasn't aware there were children here."

I blinked my eyes several times, processing her statement. What did she mean by it? Was she questioning as to why a person of my age was here or was she inquiring whether or not I was a soldier? Was it a mixture of both or neither?

It didn't matter anyway.

I swelled up with air and pushed my chest out.

"There aren't."

I was particularly proud of that statement. My emotions may be muted but I still felt the thrums rattling their chains.

Turns out the learning curve to being a child soldier was a steep one. We were many, then we were few, then it was just I.

We were treated as expendable, the first to be sent off and the first to die. Despite the heckles others would yell as they watched us sprint toward the unknown, I knew that our existence was useful. We were distractions, drawing bullets meant for our superiors. We served as disposable tools, able to scope treacherous areas and alert our allies of enemy presence by collapsing to the ground due to being riddled with bullets.

Some small part of me took solace in the fact that their deaths had some meaning. I may not have known their names or even felt a kinship towards them, but I recognized their worth.

Did I even qualify as a child anymore? Innocence no longer had a place within my soul. I had bled and drawn blood. I had slaughtered countless people, pumping bullets into those the Commander had deemed unworthy. Even the group's rite of passage consisted of executing prisoners with a machete.

Ah…I hated these types of questions. I just wanted to feel. I wanted to get back onto the wet ground and feel the beat of the world. I wanted to tear my chains off and submerge myself in the emotions of others. I wanted t-

She snapped her fingers and beckoned me forward with a motioning gesture.

She wasn't as fragile as I had thought. I could hear the steel that had grown within her voice during her stay here. Resignation may have filled her but something still kept her going. A purpose perhaps?

I came a few paces closer to the woman. I received a pointed stare in response.

She rolled her eyes and blew a breath of air upwards. She lifted her hand and pointed to the ground beside her.

I moved once again.

Her hands leaped to my side and grabbed the lower part of my shirt and pulled upwards. I struggled against her grip, almost deciding to crouch down and lose my shirt completely to escape the clutches of the woman until I remembered the words of the Commander.

The wound wasn't serious - just a minor gash from a bullet that nicked off a piece of flesh.

My shirt was pulled above my head, blocking the view I had of the woman. I fidgeted nervously, feeling the cold touch of her fingers dancing along my skin as she prodded the minor gash.

I could faintly see her outline even with the fabric obstructing my view.

Strangely enough, the sight of a blurred figure comforted me. I didn't feel the stare or see the face. She was just a blob resembling the physical appearance of a humanoid figure.

I let the woman do her work, not paying attention to the specifics of her methods. She was a healer of some kind, that I knew for sure. Men had gone in with wounds and then had come out with considerably less.

I closed my eyes and hummed a light tune. I could envision sparks of embers skipping into the darkness of my sight. The fire cracked and laughed bellowing out strands of smoke that pointed to the moon.

She nudged me my shoulder, indicating she had finished. I still felt the slight wrongness on my left side but the pain had been dulled. The woman was skilled apparently.

I thanked her with a nod of my head, appreciating her services. Just as I was motioning to leave, her hands sprung out and grasped my shoulders.

She looked me in the eyes and whispered, "Be careful". She smiled with a bit of strain, clearly unused to making the facial expression for some time. The woman then shooed me away and went back to her work.

Ah…I had to be careful not to receive her services again. Once was a professional courtesy, twice was a favor, and thrice was a debt.

Grabbing my gun from the guard, I walked off to my tent for some rest.


	3. New Arrival

**Chapter 3**

I'll admit that the woman provided a sense of comfort I hadn't expected. Not only did she liven up the camp with her presence, but she had also raised the morale of the group with her medical skills. She was useful, arguably the most as her particular skillset was hard to come by.

Apparently, the woman's tent was quite the popular place for the men to visit. Not only were they able to receive treatment for various wounds but also interact with a rather exotic-looking woman. Some even went as far as to make their priority "collecting anything medicine-looking" when we went to raid local villages.

It would have been laughable was it not for the whole holding her against her will part. Plus. I didn't think the woman liked receiving gifts that still had blood on them - I mean, if the way she held them was any indicator of it. The irony wasn't lost on me.

A stubborn part of me refused to call her by her name even though I had known it to be Alisa for several weeks. I suppose I should have been honored to be privy to the details of her personal history as she did not freely hand out it out, but I felt annoyed that our relationship had progressed to such a level that the disclosure of private information was deemed appropriate. Though it hardly could be helped considering I had been made her personal errand boy by the Commander for the past couple of weeks.

I, for lack of a better word, hated getting involved with others. It sounded odd considering the nature of my addiction. How could I possibly hate something that allowed me more access to X amount of emotion? How could I purposely distance myself from others if my desire was to gorge on the feelings of others? Why was it that I refused to acknowledge the names of my comrades even though doing so allowed for a better emotional connection when they ultimately die? It didn't make sense from an outside perspective. The answer was pretty simple— _I knew my limits._

I learned early on what kind of person I was—I mean how difficult could it be considering where I grew up. Living the early years of my life in the remains of a war-torn country presented an ample amount of opportunities in delving deeper into who I was as a person.

The very first thing that made me realize the severity of my "condition" was coincidentally the same incident that managed to catch the eye of the Commander. I was an orphan, nothing special since the war, and like any other orphan, I was left to fend for myself after the death of my guardians. The problem was that I held no outstanding characteristics that separated me from the others.

I wasn't fast, I wasn't strong, I wasn't even charismatic. I was unremarkably average in every sense of the word except for one particular aspect—I was quick to abandon whatever moral compass that bound me. Whereas others would hesitate, I would not. I refused to let myself fade into an oblivion, my mind rendered into nothing all because of a desire to keep my actions within the sphere of what is considered morally acceptable.

I still struggled.

It wasn't until I stopped fighting this primal urge I felt early in my life did I flourish. I didn't have to worry about irrelevant information like whether I should or shouldn't—I didn't have to think at all whenever I went into that state. It was addicting and self-destructing all at the same time. I didn't know the difference between submerging myself in the emotions of others and drowning in it. There's a gentle balance to it, one that I hadn't known at the time. I lost myself.

I would have my arms littered with fresh scars and my skin would have splotches of darkened spots that would resemble glittering of the stars in the black sky. With the rise of a new day, questions popped in my head wondering how I had gotten these marks.

The Commander woke me up. I'm not sure how he did it and whenever I would ask him, he would just laugh and say he could talk with beasts. Funnily enough, he would always wave his pistol in my face when he said that. Regardless of the man's eccentrics, he brought me back from the darkness and because of that, I have a debt to him. I would follow his orders without question even if it meant being the errand boy to a certain blond-haired doctor.

Things continued on uneventfully or at least until the coming of the metal warbirds one night. Turns out kidnapping American personnel from DWO wasn't something that went by unpunished. The metal blades screeched their arrival and all hell broke loose.


	4. Welcome the Strangers

**Chapter 4**

I suppose I found the situation mildly funny at the time. For all the panic happening, my emotional state remained fairly calm. There were no strange tugs threatening to reclaim the body that I had—in fact, I felt nothing toward the men that were my allies even as they fled for the lives as the meal warbirds came near.

I looked on to see them trample over their comrades as they fled for a chance at continuing their selfishly-driven lives. I could imagine how the men in the helicopters would shift anxiously, overexcited at the prospect of putting down rabid animals that had strayed too far with their actions. Blame couldn't be put on the Commander's men for their choices—I mean how could it since no reasonable path to victory existed before us. We had no chance at winning against whoever these people were. Better equipped, formally trained, and disciplined unlike any other…all who stayed were as good as dead. Our time as a group was coming to an abrupt end at the hands of an unknown foreign force.

The Commander's men were selfish people who placed their desires before all others, masquerading as obedient men in order to avoid the Commander's ire. In all fairness, they played the part well but when accompanying them through the missions it was easy to see the truth. How many times had I caught them casually satisfying their urges when we had orders to advance further into a village? How many times had I been witness to them stuffing their torn pockets with valuables meant for our leader?

Though they dabbled in the extremes, they recognized their own shiftiness and often took pride in it. They knew, accepted, and even reveled in the type of person they were, fully taking advantage of the perks and benefits that entailed from living a life of murder. After all, it didn't make any sense to admonish those that had the courage to willfully discard their humanity and idealistic morals in favor of having the chance to make it past the early years of their lives. Were they suppose to take the high road and refuse the Commander's invitation to his band of merry troops? It was only right to reward such stupidity with a bullet to the head.

Grabbing my things, I jogged at a steady pace to the woman's tent fully intent on accomplishing my last task for the Commander. Regardless of whether or not the man was alive, I still had orders and a debt to repay.

Coming up on the doctor's tent, my eyes narrowed when catching sight of a considerably large-sized gash on the front cover of the tent. The woman wouldn't dare go out on her own and escape into the darkness in a land unknown to her. Nothing pleasant awaited her with that choice, especially if she found herself in the company of the remnants of our little group. I took a breath, feeling the sudden intake of cold, dry air filling my chest and sped forward to the tent.

Jumping into the gap of the tent's tear, my sight latched on to a blond-haired figure cowering the in a corner. With the tentative stability broken with my arrival, it seemed that one of the smitten men decided to act out his wishes of making the woman his.

Hey, I could respect that. Kudos to him adhering to his selfish nature just as many of the others had. Instead of putting his survival as the top priority, he decided one last fuck would be worth more than the remainder of his life.

Things would've been fine, just a standard get in and get out even with the slight delay of disposing of my "comrade". The whole event shouldn't have taken any more than a good chunk of seconds. A few sprayed bullets in the man's direction and the woman's problem would have been solved. No point in trying the stealthy approach when a few loud bangs of gunfire wouldn't have made much of a difference in alerting my position when the camp was embroiled in a firefight. It should've been simple—but it wasn't.

I thought I could keep down my urges given the years of experience I had under my belt but when we locked eyes, my control began to slip. This wasn't normal. This was new. She provided something different from the norm, something stimulating for once.

 _Her eyes felt different, fear intermixed with… hope? No one looks at me like that. Its usually just constant begging going on and on, with some hysterical sobbing that's sprinkled in when the final act of their life comes to a close. Raw emotion rages within those ocean-colored eyes of her's and spills onto mine. It feels so_ _ **good**_ _. Complex? No. Simplistic—her eyes asked a question. I'm the answer. Terror grips her body, rocketing her chest with each erratic respiration and yet she believes me to be her savior even though I hold a similar face to her attacker. What did I do to deserve such tender treatment from a woman far above my age?_

 _OooOo…its getting worse, I can already tell with the sounds starting to get more pronounced. Huddled several feet away yet I hear her sporadic panting as if she were next to me. I hear the man twisting his shoes into the ground as he readied himself for a pounce and the eager smacking of his tongue against his lips. Even though Commander saved me from the void, the temptation to go back is still with me. I want to be smothered, embraced, and pretend things were different._

 _I'm weak. I thought you knew this by now Commander. Where are you? Commander, where are you?_ _ **Where are you? I need you.**_

 _I'm getting sidetracked. Yes, that's it. What stage am I in? Eyes rolled back already, pleasurable sensation went down back and expanded quite some time ago, and fingers currently gripping the upper part of my arms. Oh, that's right, only two more to go._

" _?#%*!"._

 _Surprise is lost. Thinking isn't good. Must surrender and give in. The Commander would understand. I'm doing this for him. Accomplish mission, yes? Things were different back when Commander found me; I was inexperienced. I have enough control now over my tendencies. Just letting loose a little bit won't be bad right? Right? riGht? RIgHT? Time is ticking. To go against the words of the Commander is death. Example must be made out of him. No gun—can't be quick and easy._

 _The chains are unlocking—no, they are breaking, stressed under the influence of Alisa. Cracks. Cracks. Cracks everywhere. It's calling me—not my name, of course not, but something more instinctual. My heart? No. My soul? No. My nature? Yes._

 **They break.**

The chains go and my chest fills with air. It's a good time. Yes, a very good time to be me. I wanna play. Who I play with? The man or woman? Doesn't matter—yes it does. Who lets me feel? Who lets me play? Source does. Protect. Will feel again one day. **Must.**

 **I yell**.

—

I could hear it even in the darkness. That meek little voice struggling against the mounting, suffocating pressure.

I never liked the aftermath of my episodes.

I'm always left alone with my thoughts. The act I've built over the years unravel in a moment of clarity reminding me of my pitiful self.

Who am I kidding—a ruthless child soldier—don't make me laugh. I go on and on about this nonexistent debt that I "cherish", but it's all a lie. I don't stay with the Commander out of loyalty or even admiration, I follow him because he's the only person that gives me a sense of purpose. I was nothing when I was a wandering kid who stole left and right just to survive.

Hell, I wasn't even a fucking orphan! That's just some sort of sob story I came up on the fly to avoid the real reason why I was moving through the crumbled ruins of the city I grew up in alone. Bit embarrassing to mention that my own parents just decided to abandon me on day one of the war because they figured that their own flesh and blood wasn't worth the trouble. But that wasn't the worst part, oh no, what killed me the most was that they didn't even have the decency to crush my hope. They just left in the dead of the night, seemingly ashamed of their choice, and let me continue to believe, for years, that something unfortunate had happened that separated us. Even still, I believed that one day we would be reunited. I struggled constantly, unused to life on the streets, all for the sake of reaching for my happily ever-after.

"A child's dream is their parent's dream"—I guess that little tidbit of theirs was just empty words of love.

Why am I even thinking about these things? I thought I managed to get past it by fooling myself into thinking that everything is alright. Why couldn't I just have kept pretending that I'm some sort of unapologetic killer that doesn't mind all the blood I've spilled? Slowly, I had lost hope in ever making it out of here. Instead of being driven mad, I accepted it in my own way and made myself be who I am not. It's my story isn't it—so why was it so wrong for me to rewrite my pathetic existence?

Everything, my pain and troubles, is all her fault. If she only hadn't come, I'd still be living and dying in my beautiful lie. If only she hadn't reminded me of myself.

"He's just a boy. _Please_!"

Even now she's taunting me. A weak woman like herself, cowering just a few minutes ago, stands in front with her arms spread out protecting me from those unruly invaders. Guns are pointed at her, lights burning her sight, and despite that, she stands her ground. What changed? What gave her the right to blossom when I stayed the same? I hate her for becoming strong. I hate her for being more than I ever could be. **I hate her for stealing who I ought to be.**

And yet, I love her for it.

Those rare, beautiful moments in which someone blooms is truly magnificent—to tear skin and bone and become something greater than what you were. What a strange, comforting sensation brought up by two warring emotions within my chest. It's a bit regrettable that I wasn't ever able to experience the transformation but being able to see it is certainly a high-mark in my eventful life.

Against all odds, she managed to bloom; I'm happy for her.

For the first time in a long time, my head wasn't clouded with doubt. The anger of being reminded of weakness bubbling beneath my expression began to dissipate. I didn't have the strength to protect Alisa, not now with only a few inches of steel at my disposal. Alisa shouldn't die protecting someone as worthless as me.

Huh,… guess there's no need to hang onto my trusty knife anymore. A little beat up and bloody from the ordeal but it served me well enough.

 _No more fighting._

 _No more killing._

 _No more pretending._

So, I tossed the knife to the side and shakily stood up. Hardly a sound rang out, just the smallest of thuds as the metal blade skidded across the earth and slid to a sudden halt. The sudden action drew a few twitches but their sight held fast on Alisa.

Giving no chance for the stubborn woman to object, I walk past her with arms raised and into the blinding beams of light. It's a little disorienting but things finally felt right for once.

Clothed hands reached out and grabbed the back of my neck, driving me face-first into the ground. My vision swims and I can taste a bit of blood and dirt in my mouth. It makes for a strange combination.

I can hear her high-pitch yelping in the background as my vision slowly gets darker as other masked figures swarm me.

We're both the same, or at least we were when she first came here. Maybe if things were different, I could have bloomed too.

Don't worry, Alisa. You're gonna be alright.


	5. It's What I Deserve

**Chapter 5**

Things were hazy for a while, drifting in and out of sleep, unable to make any sense of time in the outside world as my life took an unprecedented turn.

I hadn't expected to be trapped in this painfully bright room with only my thoughts to keep me company as I had fully intended on dying that day for a chance at protecting the woman. Plagued by doubts and uncertainty, her image came in the dark. Her face lighting up with a smile, hair dancing in the wind as faceless figures followed behind in admiration. I can't help but imagine her living on peacefully.

Even with the constant stream of visitors questioning my identity, I'm no closer in finding out the truth about Alisa. Though it's infuriating allowing myself to be strung along, if it meant being granted a chance of at least knowing her fate, I'll continue to play their game.

But, it wasn't all bad. I learned that the world is a big place.

"You gotta stop with that pussy-footing face ya got."

Guard A is always talkative compared to his mute of a friend, Guard B. One expressive with his words and the other speaking with his body.

"Three square meals a day, a TV, and this spacious room all to yourself—you know, I'm starting to feel a bit jealous, never been treated so good back when I was serving. How bout it, Brett, don't ya think the same?"

Guard B wiggled his eyebrows in response.

"Anyways, big reason we're here. You're finally getting out of the pen and back into the big ol' world."

Throwing a new set of clothes to me, he said, "Congrats kid, you're goin home."

It's strange, the idea of being told I have a home. Where is it?

"Ahhhhh, there's that look again. Jesus, I know you're pretty fucked up and all but do me a favor and just try to keep it to a min. Brett, put the bag on him—can't have him knowing where we at.

"Rules and reg—you get what I'm talking about."

And with that, I'm blind again. They grip my shoulders guiding me through the darkness. I'm lifted up and then plopped down on something soft. A click sounds off and then a beast roars to life and dashes forward.

"Say, did you ever take a look at the vids I brought ya? Wanted to know if they any good. Thinkin' of getting it for my kid's birthday since she's kinda into those kind of things."

I closed my eyes, thinking back to the sisters. RWBY, JNPR, CRDL. Teams, friends, family. I can't help but become overcome with nostalgia. They, for some reason, remind me of Alisa.

"It's…interesting."

"Good enough for me! Hell, if it can get a glowing review from Mr. Talkative, then my kid would love it. Been worried I wasn't connecting with her cause of the years I've been away from my little girl. Just want everything to be perf-"

"Whats going to happen to me?"

His voice rang low and conflicted, "I'm…I'm not sure. You did some bad shit, no denying that, but word from upper brass is that kids like you are gonna be housed in a remote place. Killing child soldiers in firefights is one thing, but dishing out the big CP is way different"

"CP?"

"Capital punishment. Its..uhh…think of execution. CP is pretty much that 'cept its kind of like a friendly way of putting it."

That sounded odd.

"But whatever, it's not important. Enough talking. Go to sleep, you're gonna need your beauty sleep when we get there. I want my little killer to be looking prim and proper so he won't embarrass Brett and I."

And so I slept.

—

"Wake up kid. We're here."

I grunted in acknowledgment, groggily lifting myself up from the seat and stepped outside into a dusty open plain. Guard A and B stood a good distance to my left talking to two of the five men group that met us here. Finding nothing to do besides shuffling my feet, I awkwardly leaned against the vehicle and absently stared at the moon.

"Kid! Come over here for a sec." Guard A always did the talking out of the duo.

When I came over, Guard A was holding something to the side of my face, switching his sight to and from. His face lights up and snaps his fingers.

"Yep, that's him alright. Nobody can mistake that charming mug of his. Alright kiddo, meet your new caretakers.

The scarred one begins to laugh and doubled over with his hand gripping his stomach.

" _He's a criminal, a murderer, a monster. There's only one way we take care of animals like that."_

He raises his left hand and time grinds to a halt. My gaze drifts to Guards A and B, their bodies frozen in motion as they begin their plan into action. Huh,…I never noticed the two shared the same eye color.

It's a nice shade of green—hazel.

—

I know where I am, the abundance of Faunus make it apparent. The specifics of the timeline are lost on me.

What comes next? The sun and the moon will dance. One will die for the other and the other will live for one. That much is certain, but what comes after?

All I know for certain is that the Sun needs to die for the Moon to breathe.


	6. Only Life I Knew

**Chapter 6**

Remnant is on a path to destruction, a war of hearts each vying for their own say.

It's a lie to those standing beside me enjoying the liveliness Menagerie's marketplace has to offer, but a distant truth to those already setting the gears of chaos into motion. Soon war will be upon them and the world of Remnant shall be just as my own.

Coming from a murderer, it may seem hypocritical, but I want to make a world where everyone has the chance to grow—to be able to experience life's flavors. Children shouldn't be blindsided by the wishes of those who come before them and be forced into believing that there are only two ways of living—to suffer in misery as all the things you love are taken away or to be those whom continually indulge themselves with their needs and wants at the expense of others. Change is possible, but the ability to become what you aren't is lost when tasting only the waters of extreme-hood.

So, I must choose.

Do I let this world's problem be its own or do I embroil myself into conflict once again?

The answer comes easily to me.

Just as Alisa did for me, I'll do for them. My actions may seemingly contradict my goal but in order for the new warriors of Remnant to succeed, they must carry the weight of their destiny as they trudge deeper into the truths of Remnant. It is not enough for them to know only the feeling of agonizing defeat. It's one thing to go against humans veering off the path of normality and entirely another to confront monsters in the very flesh. A path exists before them, far different from my own.

There's hope for the new generation, members of RWBY, JNPR, and even CRDL; I just have to test the flame, keep it burning bright for others to be drawn to its brilliant gleam.

Only one person in the whole of Remnant will help me accomplish my goal for she is too, a follower of the middle path. She recognizes the value of strength, willing and able to fight for what is right but also has the wisdom in realizing what lines should never be crossed. Unlike others within the organization, her leadership will not cause the fall of Remnant. And so, I'll give everything to her, my mind, body, and soul, and entrust my dream to the woman who holds the answer to the avoidance of this world's destruction.

I will not follow her out of necessity as I had with the Commander but instead, by choice.

She is not the Commander, motives and desires widely different.

She is Sienna Khan, soon-to-be High Leader of the White Fang.

And with my decision made, I shall enter the White Fang of my own volition, pledge my services to her, and one day be of use in preventing Remnant's demise.

I just hope, when looking back, the sacrifices I make and force unto others will mean something in the grand scheme of things.

—

The uniform given to me by a rather middle-aged recruiter feels stiff and unused, a long-shot from the worn out rags that covered my body when I first stepped foot into the training camp. Before the instructors are several rows and columns of mostly young Faunus wearing an identical outfit: a black t-shirt, white colored vest, long fitting pants, and tightly wrapped boots to match. The first hurdle of my journey was simple to clear. With the White Fang's ambitious goal, it only makes sense to commit a decent amount of manpower in recruiting purposes. It was easy to find one, with a number of them standing just to the sides of the large gathered crowd listening to the infectious words of one Ghira Belladona when I first arrived in Remnant.

A natural born leader he is, imposing build matching with barely restrained power swirling and thrashing within those eyes. The father of Blake is a man worth noticing; but, even when in a position of power as the current leader of the White Fang, he's unable to stop the coming of the end. If Sienna Khan weren't to exist, then maybe he would've been the answer to my dream—already established power matched with a personal connection to an important piece of the puzzle. Though, it's admittedly hard to tell with him already having one foot out of the White Fang and onto his way of becoming Chieftain.

Our reasons for being here differ vastly from one another but all of us are connected by our conscious decision to tread upon the path of becoming a part of something bigger than ourselves. Our choice to join the ranks of White Fang marks us for a path unknown to many as the rise and fall of clashing powers for the helm of the organization is soon to come. Right now, I'm surrounded by freshly minted recruits and seasoned instructors who know only a portion of the intensity of what I have lived and died through.

Surprisingly, for Menagerie's population to be made up of exclusively Faunus, the number of recruits standing beside me falls considerably below expectations. I guess the injustice that runs rampant within the main continents of Remnant becomes forgotten when daily life for Faunus within Menagerie continues on unopposed.

Back straight, arms to the side, hands clenched into a fist, chest outwards, and head forward with a slight tilt upward. I call myself a soldier or at least I did once upon a time. What I was is nothing compared to the giants that came in the night and changed my fate. It's time to gain some insight into what I'm lacking. With the way I am now—no matter the years of experience—I'll be slaughtered. A fresh start is needed, one impressive enough that will bring the eyes of one tiger woman upon my sorry sight.

A man steps up, uniform more decorated than our own, with antlers jutting out from the front of his head.

"Over time, you, recruits will learn to move in the shadows. You will be hated by many, appreciated by few, and loved by even less. But, expecting any sort of appreciation from serving isn't why you fledglings joined up, now isn't it? Open your ears and listen well.

Your life is your own. And because of that, all of you—I don't care what type of Faunus you are—have earned the respect of myself and that of my team of instructors. You could've carved out a cushy little place in Menagerie for yourself and spent the rest of your days lounging in what your ancestors had fought and died for, but the injustice spanning across the continents, against men and women just as yourself, ignited a fire within your blood and spurred your Faunus ass into action. The lives you live may not be remembered by the people you're swearing to fight for, but by joining up with the White Fang, you've secured yourself a slot on how you're gonna die. Instead of living a secluded life while having your head kissing the dirt as you bow to those that subject you, you will die standing up fighting for your brethren—a testament to not only your courage, but to the brothers and sisters who have fallen in the past, and those that will in the future.

Welcome to the White Fang, young hopefuls. Now put your fucking masks on."

And, so we did.


	7. Hello, Queen

**Chapter 7**

I pulled the cuff of my shirt, fingers grazing over the soft touch of the fabric momentarily distracting myself from the hushed excited words passing to and from the new Faunus members. Even after the months of ragged training, the diversity of emotions thrown callously into the open is something…unsettling to me. I don't really have a benchmark to compare the sensitivity of Faunus as I had yet to meet the humans of this world, but they seem to be more in-tune in acknowledging the emotional matters of their heart. Just as easily as they swish their tail back and forth when delighted, do they bare their fangs filled with animosity to those whom have wronged them. The positivity humming in the atmosphere in our brief celebration of becoming a White Fang operative is just as palpable as it is stifling.

We walked in an orderly fashion, guided by the cues of our instructors. As we were lead into the decorated inner hall of the leader's chamber, I can't help but take notice of the various ornaments garnishing the walls. It's a stark contrast to the indelible years of my past and the fleeting months spent under the guidance of the veterans of the White Fang.

In all rights, the first thing my eyes should have sought out for should've been the imposing figure of the leader of the White Fang as he sat easily upon his throne; and yet, my eyes were drawn to the immense, darkly-colored flag of the revolutionary group draped behind the seat of Blake's father. I studied it for a while, questioning as to what the beast that lay in the centerpiece of the flag was: did it represent their animalistic traits coming into fruition, materialized after constant anguish spanning even before the lives of their forefathers or was it a declaration to become something they were not in order to rid themselves of the chains of servitude that continues to bind them even today—to act as if they are Grimm, lashing out in no specific order of purpose, just to damn themselves for the chance of destroying those that had forced the knee of their beloved.

Its a question worth wondering for the origins of the White Fang eludes me even with the knowledge acquired within my past life. Momentarily giving my thanks to Brett, my view becomes darkened by the hulking body of a recognizable figure—one rather influential White Fang personnel that had given a somewhat touching speech just moments before. Bending his height, his scarred and displeased face jutted inches before my own. His bony antlers pierced through the bushes of my hair, prickling my skin just enough to draw small traces of blood. The hands that were once by his side, managed to slither their way onto my shoulders and create a vice-like grip. With one swift and forceful motion, my knees became well acquainted with the wine colored carpet beneath us.

"Kneel for your leader." The words came out slow, purposeful and constrained, an unimaginable amount of annoyance laced within.

I did as I was told, ignoring the pointed snickering spreading from within the audience that were comprised of various officials and high ranking members. Those that were to my side wisely chose to ignore the temptation of mirroring said action as such luxuries weren't granted to newly made members of the White Fang; instead, their faces were made out of stone, staring fervidly at the one who had them at his beck and call. After all, it's not every day a man of this caliber grants you an audience before him.

Matching my sight with the others in my group, I was met with the visage of a rough looking individual who was more akin to a king rather than a soldier. Regal presence paired with a, funnily enough, royal purple coat made for an eye-catching display of otherworldliness. Patches of hair—or was it fur—littered his body, making his lineage unquestionable to all. His eyes twinkled with amusement, watching the spectacle upon the lavishly made high seat. I may be presumptuous in assuming so, but rather than obtaining obedience through carefully constructed ultimatums or using the method of force, Ghira compelled you to listen his words by only his weighty presence.

And, that's precisely why he's useless to me.

His greatness is clear to see among the faces of the Faunus when his name is mentioned, eyes lighting up in recognition and grimaces upturned to a smile. And yet, with all that influence and power the King refuses to take proper action and instead walks a path littered with childish naivety. He holds too much love in his heart, for Humans and Faunus alike, to make a costly choice that will cost both the happiness and lives of others across the land of Remnant.

As he hefted himself from his throne, his entirety—height and all— made itself apparent. I scoured the watching crowd, waves of unrecognizable Faunus, hoping for a glimpse of a certain tiger-faced woman.

Words were being said by the great leader—congratulatory sayings that would best be made at a later date of my success. One by one the Faunus within my group were being called to the forefront to stand before Ghira Belladonna and officially receive their appointment to the White Fang. But, only two would be granted the honor of serving as the protectors of the upper echelon of the White Fang—a privilege given only to those originating and graduating from within Menagerie's walls. The ceremony was a well-respected tradition among the White Fang community, offering a chance to put names to faces and to see the new generation of soldiers that sprung out from the heart of the honored continent of Menagerie.

"Derek Barn", the timbered voice called out; the other of the two that were selected to be guardians to the men and women occupying places among the upper ranks.

In a crisp motion, the boy in front of me got up and gracefully walked to his place before Ghira Belladonna with the points of his Faunus' ears rigidly standing at attention. The little fox had always struck me as odd individual in our sparse and relatively brief interactions for his unusual penchant of cleanliness bordered to a near obsession. But, regardless of his eccentricities, his ability or maybe even potential that the observers had saw must've been considerable for him to be christened as a protector.

Again my eyes drifted to the watching crowd, uneasiness beginning to rise from the pit of my stomach over my failure in finding the woman of my dreams. Did I perhaps lose track of the timeline, forgetting the key entry points I could successfully assert myself into the stream of the RWBY universe without splitting the future in untold directions? Was my second chance—the opportunity I needed to reaffirm that my life had any purpose to it—a heartbreaking, bitter conclusion to a story of uncertainty?

"Terra Grime".

My body jolted at the sound of my name, eyes frantically searching for the one who called me.

This was it, wasn't it; a point of no return—my event horizon.

My body is bubbling, a mixture of emotions swirling within my disgraced, vile, and tainted container I call a soul. I didn't deserve a second chance, not after what I've done—especially not for what I'm planning to do. I could run away, repent for my actions while living a life of seclusion. The main characters of this world can handle a few scrapes and bruises along their way in their path of heroism. They don't need a unforgivable coward like me—no, not when their loved ones would lift them up from the darkest of corners despair would drive them to and nurture them to fulfill their trails of destiny. I don't belong here. I won't succeed. I'll never—…

An unusual pain lanced through my body, forcing me to grit my teeth in response. I looked back from my kneeling position to see a bunny-eared Faunus smiling at me as she held my tail within her grip.

Did she just pull my tail? Yes, I believe she did.

Shaking my head, I let the breath of air unconsciously gathered within my lungs out and stared at the girl for a moment. With a quick sigh and a twist of my lips, I mouthed the words "thank you" to the little devil.

Help. A strange word and even a stranger feeling accompanied with it. Before, in my past life, I depended on only myself and yet in the very beginning of my journey here, I'm already being assisted by others.

I…I like it here. I'm glad for whatever reason there may have been that brought me to this little corner of the universe.

Standing to my full height, conviction fueling my movements, I strode into Ghira Belladonna's world.

His golden eyes cleaved into my own, tearing through my novice defenses searching for whatever it is a man whose strength is only matched by his wisdom would look for. Moments later, the man who stood atop it all grunted and let his voice fill the hall.

"Who will you serve young Guardian, in that blackened heart of yours? Will you pledge your eternal loyalty to the people of the Faunus?

A chill ran through me, surprised at his insight, but it's to be expected when standing in front of Blake's father.

Truth be told, when asked that question, the answer is usually an either/or. Most would choose to serve the Faunus as per tradition and only a few, usually those longing for a place beside the White Fang's leader, would ask to serve under Ghira Belladonna; or at least, that's what the instructors told us in the off-time.

Staring unabashedly into his eyes, I said, "I choose to serve under Sienna Khan". She was my best bet at rectifying the wrongs of this world and because of that, there wouldn't be any limits to how far I'll sink.

I received yells to my ears, curses flung at my conceited remark. Two choices were presented to newly made guardians on who'd they serve—apparently not one of them had the foolishness to suggest a third. The voices continued for some time, intensity rising with each second, only to be silenced by a raising of the hand.

For the second time, the man seemed to be amused—finding some hilarity in the absurdity of the situation. Regardless of my intentions and desires, everything rested on the condition of Ghira's acceptance of my request. Going behind the back of the White Fang's leader in an attempt at gaining Sienna's favor would not do me any good. Something tells me that the tiger woman valued loyalty far more than a certain vengeful individual that I would meet along the way.

"Sienna Khan, step forward. A child wishes to meet you."

Embarrassing to admit, but I could feel the thumping of my tail as it annoyingly collided against my sides at the sound of her name. She's here. What I did wasn't a waste.

Her footsteps rang out, clearly heard as hall went silent by the order of Ghira. Closing my eyes, waiting for the Sienna to appear, I can't help but think that only she would choose such a climatic way of presenting herself. How dramatic of the woman to accentuate her appearance by letting the hollow sound of the shoes tapping against the wooden floor come out at full effect.

Craning my neck to the right, I caught my first sight of the woman who'd give me purpose in this strange new world.


	8. He Won't Mind

**Chapter 8**

"I'm starting to doubt whether its conviction knocking about in empty head of yours or just the run-of-the-mill stupidity. If you expect to continue under my guidance, you'd do best to improve that one-dimensional bull-headed approach of yours. I don't have the time to entertain a simple-minded child who's in over his head.

"Kitty got claws."

Even after being verbally cut to shreds and pummeled into the ground with the fresh taste of blood swishing in my mouth, I still can't help but poke fun at the woman. Not sure whether or not it's the masochistic side of me awakening and rummaging about, but making Sienna angry helped things "even out" in a sense. The mighty Sienna Khan does not come out unscathed from battling the terrifying Terra Grime.

"Do not mock your better, child."

Her foot pressed down on my head, intimately grinding the side of my face to the floor. I guess I should thank the luck in my stars that she wasn't the type of character to wear high heels.

"You can't do this to me. I'm a dog-faunus," I spat out.

The pressure abated slightly, pain rescinding to a manageable amount, allowing me to better focus my blurry eyesight on that puzzled expression resting on her face. Hook, line, and sinker.

"What does that have to do with anything?" I could feel her questioning thought trapped in a circle as she mentally repeated my words over and over again hoping to make sense of them—pure and innocent to my dastardly claim.

"Tigers are technically big cats and since I'm a dog-faunus, I outrank y—"

Rewarded with a kick to the stomach that shook the foundation of my spirit, spittle flew from my mouth, streaming down my lips and eventually raining down on her expensive-looking mat. A year of training, a year of frustration over my ineptitude, and ultimately, a year of reaffirmation concerning where I stood in this soon-to-be ravaged world. She unforgivably tore down my defenses, casually remarking on the flaws in my form as her aggressive pace that held no decipherable pattern to it, ramped up.

In all fairness, a few well deserved broken bones and fistfuls of blood was a rather generous bargain if the reward was to receive personal training from the one-and-only Sienna Khan. I could've skated around a couple of the beatings my body had been put through over the year of guidance if I had acted as more of an "appropriate" student, but even being treated as a doormat would be beneficial in the long run. Even though I didn't consider myself to be a major player in the grand scheme of things, or at least when compared to the cast members of RWBY, I wasn't foolish enough to believe that my road was so merciful as to allow an individual who'd thought himself to be above necessary preparations to survive its completion. With every unmistakeable, chilling sound of a bone being shattered, I was one step further in upping the level of pain I could tolerate. I mean, aura could only do so much to protect me.

I'm not a genius, capable of formulating strategic plans of action that would bring my foes to their knees with a snap of the fingers, nor was I a prodigy of the sword, willing and able to go toe-to-toe with the best of the best by skill alone. I'm me and such things will unfortunately be beyond me; instead, I'll do what had always come natural—think of a lackluster plan on the fly and brutishly run it along its course until I fall. If all else fails, let the chains that bind whatever that rests within me fall one-by-one and hope to whatever's out there that there isn't a need for the last one to be broken. It sounds pathetically dramatic but in all honesty, I can't afford to lose myself to the ambient, vibrant ongoings of this world. Not when I have atrocities to commit and a final repentance that patiently waits for me. After all, what needs to be done, must be done even when the costs are questionable.

"That's enough for today. Clean up and meet me in my chambers."

Meandering in my thoughts, I hadn't noticed her sudden proximity to my downed figure. Crouched beside me, I took notice of her yellow pool's gaze running along my, littered with bruises, body. She seemed softer today, almost compassionate, a warm tone subtly infused in her words. The strong and prideful Sienna, the first to bring forth the idea of utilizing violence as a means of accomplishing her vision of what the White Fang mission should be, looked at me with a pitying gaze that seemed to have far too much in common with a certain blond-haired doctor. Even now, with all the time I've spent in her presence, I can't begin to imagine what goes on in that woman's head. Big plans for a big future, I guess—something far too abstract for a simple-minded child like me to understand, and yet just on the horizon it waits to be grasped by her striped-marked hands.

She grunted out a goodbye and left me in this oddly spacious and suddenly uncomfortable room before my ill-mannered tongue had let loose a—what I'd like think— witty response.

Sluggishly, I picked myself up and headed to my quarters intent on washing the signs of my defeat away. My left arm had some trouble obeying my commands due to absorbing most of Sienna's blows, but it was a minor thing considering I was right-handed and that my aura had already been unlocked. Absentmindedly, I went through the familiar motions of cleaning the sweat and blood off my body and trudged to Sienna's chambers wondering what job she had stored for me. Would it be a publicity stunt showcasing the progress of the guardian placed under Sienna's tutelage, perhaps the desecration of an well known business associated with the Schnee company, or maybe even an assassination of a high-valued target within the White Fang as Sienna positioned herself to the forefront on the succession ladder as the favorite for the seat of the White Fang's High Leader.

I thrust open the doors to her chamber, intent on getting a cheap rise out of the woman, and was met with the expectant gaze of a recognizable eccentric faunus who had a glossy-looking revolver hidden slyly beneath the shadows of his robe,

I tore my eyes from his prodding stare and looked towards Sienna, but upon seeing the rigidness of her face, the words beginning to form wisely died out.

"You will head to Atlas accompanied by your fellow guardian, Derek Barn. A final test to prove yourselves has come. Don't let it all end in failure."


	9. She Won't Mind

**Chapter 9**

"Finally. Finally. Finally! As much as guy could love Menagerie, it being my birthplace and all, it was getting tiresome being cooped up in that place day-in and day-out training for god knows what. Do this and do that. Stop cleaning where you're not supposed to. Don't print out cardboard cutouts of humans and shoot them. Bleh. I'm more of a free bird, ya know? Want to soar out and dish out my own brand of justice which I now have a chance to do. People keep blabbering on about that stupid expression of the world being their oyster, but I'd like to think of the world as my own personal kitchen. And like every kitchen I gotta do some sweeping around, cleaning house one bullet at a time."

Extraordinarily eccentric.

If we weren't only half way to our midpoint destination of Mistral, I would be tempted to jump ship if it meant having a few hours of peace from his incessant rattling—never mind the fact that I never learned how to swim. The first few minutes were fairly entertaining, him nervously tripping over his words as we begun to reacquaint during our walk to the ferry, but as he begun to develop a general comfort to my presence, a few of the screws tightly wounded in his head plopped off and revealed an inner layer of debauchery and sadism. Derek had already made plans to dispose of the ferry's crew until I overheard his mutterings and shut down that line of thought. In his mind, the word covert or low-key meant killing everyone you crossed paths with in order to erase any trace of our existence as we traveled through the kingdoms. Truth be told, I'm not sure if my criticisms concerning his character meant more or less coming from murderer like me.

But anyway, if it wasn't for the inclusion of the whole genocidal aspect included in his way of life, I would've cataloged the fox boy as a relatively decent person. The analogy comparing a kitchen to life seemed a bit strange but it could be chalked up to one of the things that are just based on a person's life experience—I would've settled on the more cliched outlook of "life is a battlefield" though. To each their own, I suppose.

The fox boy lifted his revolver from the holster, gently caressing the grooves of the gun in one hand and playfully sifted through the bullets in his pouch in the other. Upon seeing my interest, Derek shoved his firearm to my face intent on displaying the prowess of his chosen partner.

"A fellow lover of revolvers, huh? Got this as a little present from my family when they heard I got accepted into the guardian program— it's called Titan. Wanted to call it Kitchen Gun, but people from my family were whining and even my instructor said it was a shitty name. Fuck if they know though, I got better taste in these kinds of stuff. Would've named it that to except they kind of paid for it. Anyway, where's yours? Only see a pair of raggedy blades on you."

Awkwardly, I lifted the blades from their holsters situated on my thighs and showed them off to the world. Even though they weren't by themselves anything special, they at least were modeled to be durable. For that, thanks would go to Sienna—nothing she despised more than bringing out impractical weapons to a mission when they would better serve as gaudy decorations laying forgotten mantled on a wall.

"Don't got one. Sienna said I ain't ready for it. These raggedy daggers will have to make due", I grumbled out.

If his slack-jawed expression was anything to go by, I could tell he wasn't exactly pleased with having his companion be down a suitable weapon already at the start of our journey. In actuality, I'm quite partial to these kinds of weapons due to their innate simplicity. Swing it around and it slices, thrust it in and it pierces—little to no luck needed if you had some familiarity with handling a blade. Not going to run out of ammo in a crucial moment or have the piece of junk jam up on me like those other dust-fueled weapons. All I need to worry about is keeping the blade sharp enough to cut through flesh and maybe even if I'm strong enough, bone.

I'm not even sure why two relatively new guardians were chosen to be sent out to a far-off place like Atlas anyways. Surely there were other candidates with more than a collective two years under their belts to better accomplish a task as difficult as this but we weren't in any position to object. Standing on the starboard side of the ship, arms slug over the rails as I watched the waves of water pound against the hull and eventually part and make way for the boat, I can't help but mumble a curse and wonder the ramifications my little-unanticipated journey will make on the timeline. It was one thing to be a little mouthy to Sienna in Menagerie, a continent bordered up in isolation, and entirely another to be forced to journey to Atlas for the purpose of creating a torturous memory for the Schnee family. The order never explicitly mentioned Weiss as she was just a child at the time, similar to my own age in fact, but it did call for the death of anyone intimately associated with the Schnee company which she definitely fell through. A long list, but the closer the better were Sienna's words. I was given an unimaginable amount of autonomy shared only with Derek to act how we see fit in order to best complete the mission, but even in the presumable advantage given to us, pitfalls await me at every decision.

Navigate through the kingdoms? Sure, no problem. Shouldn't be that difficult if we maintain a low profile and keep our violent tendencies in check. Always could pretend to be wandering academy students who decided to play hooky. Keep others from finding out that we're of faunus heritage? Bit problematic but it's not a worry until we make plans for our final voyage to Atlas and even then, nothing but a few staples and baggy clothes wouldn't fix. The real issue, to me, is that I somehow have to figure out how to recreate the events that happened in the original RWBY timeline to my own even when I don't know the specifics of them.

All that's know to me is that failure isn't an acceptable outcome in this mission—Sienna made that perfectly clear. Someone of relative importance to the Schnee family had to die, but it had to be on the condition that they weren't a key player which essentially ruled out Weiss, Winter, Jacques, and to a lesser extent Whitley.

Wait…I'm missing someone aren't I? Yeah. Weiss had a mother, didn't she? Wait, of course! She's the one that was supposed to die here. I vaguely remembered Weiss complaining about the White Fang to Blake and how they mercilessly killed various precious people—her mother must've been one of them. It all made sense now—the reason why she hated the White Fang and her general dislike for the faunus race.

Giving a silent thanks to Weiss' mother for her sacrifice, I unfurled the map in my back pocket and planned my course to Atlas.


	10. Midway Stop

Credit to u/adeafblindman for the RWBY map I based the chapter off of

 **Chapter 10**

"Just, just shut up for a second. This is harder than it looks." Tightly gripping the edges of the map-scroll handed to me by one of Sienna's underlings, frustration had begun to send ripples disturbing the inner sanctity that guarded my fragile balance. Try as hard as I might, the high-pitched whines that came out as yelps from Derek's insufferable mouth kept breaking my focus at the task at hand. I'd like to think that I'm one of the more patient White Fang members, content to stay in the background and make passing observations while continuing on my business, but my short time with the fox truly tests the person who've I thought myself to be.

"Ahh~, Sienna leaving you in charge was the biggest mistake of her life. Could've just made for a one-way trip from Menagerie to Atlas but instead, you decided to take a detour and waste time on a vacation to visit the four kingdoms.

"Only three—Mistral and then Vale before we reach Atlas," I interjected. I gently lowered the map from my face, feeling a slight twitch of annoyance at his complaint, and gave a generous view of the map to Derek. With a casual flick of the head, I gestured him to grab the right edge of the scroll as I better demonstrated the current plan of action. Lifting my hand, I traced my finger along the scroll, finger gliding through the various continents of where we would journey in the upcoming time. Menagerie to Mistral to Vale and then finally to the harsh, freezing kingdom of Atlas. Slightly turning my finger, I tapped my index finger's nail to the map drawing both the attention and sight of Derek's to what I was pointing at.

"Sea Monster?", confusion and an irrefutable amount of excitement meshed within his high-pitched voice.

"Sea Monster," I replied. I couldn't attest to the accuracy of the map, it having the drawings of unmistakable mythical beasts featured prominently on it, but I wasn't willing to bet both my life and dream on it—if it was just Derek on the other hand, then it'd be another story. Smoothing the jagged edges of my hair with the well-earned calloused hand I had given to myself, the thought of beasts of this magnitude wasn't entirely farfetched in the RWBY universe. As I recall, a Grimm of the appearance of a dragon had made a terrifying reveal in the climactic episode of Beacon's fall—would these beasts be just as the same? Either way, it was best to calm my nerves and avoid a hotbed of unneeded inconvenience when I'm already in over my head. I'd get an ample amount of opportunities to perilously risk my life in the coming trials ahead—sea monster or not.

"The one-way trip from Menagerie to Atlas is obviously out of the question. Menagerie to Vale is way too far for an out-dated and falling apart ferry to take us, so the only option even remotely acceptable if we wanted a chance at our goal would be to take the short ride to Mistral. And since we can't go the direct route from Mistral to Atlas because of the—whatever the thing on the map is—we got to bypass that whole nonsense by taking a short detour to Vale and then continue our trek upwards until we reach a port where we can catch a ship heading to Atlas. From Vale, it's smooth sailing until we're inevitably stopped and searched when we reach the snowy kingdom that the Schnee company calls their own. Don't know how we're gonna get out in one piece though."

He turned his face, glimmering eyes that hinted a touch of respect matched against my own as we walked along a faded-out path and said, "If you figured out all of this by yourself, why are we so lost?"

Deep breathes. In and out. "There's practically nothing on this map that gives me a hint of the specifics of where we are. Yeah, I know the Mistral kingdom is somewhere around this continent but how far? Don't see a key anywhere on this scroll."

"You know what, let me handle this," he yipped. Unexpectedly, he snatched the map out of my grip, slightly stretching the strands of the fabric, and curled the scroll back once again into a cylinder shoving it within the folds of his backpack.

"No map. No confusion. Just follow the worn-out path."

Too exhausted to even object. I shrugged my shoulders and took after his lead. As we walked, we began to explain our preferred positions in combat—him serving as the backline providing firing support as I, the vanguard, warded off any danger. I was a bit skeptical at how his choice of weapon—a revolver with only five slots in its cylinder— was supposed to provide adequate support when plagued with an insufferable reload time. Derek replied with only word that could possibly explain everything and yet nothing at the same time.

Semblance.

He lifted his left hand, white palm outstretched and playfully wiggled his digits. 'Sticky Fingers', he called it. Pop out the cylinder of the revolver while his left-hand digs into the pouch slung to the side of his hip and retrieves five cartridges of dust ammo with fingers on the base of each of them. From then on, it's just the simple motions of jamming the cartridges into the open slots and pushing the cylinder back into place. He asked for mine in return, to which I cryptically replied, "I bring things back." He almost slugged me for that.

I'm not really sure how to describe the power as I'd yet to fully explore the extents of the semblance. Why hadn't I? It just wasn't practical. I brought forth things from the minds of those I touched that would best be forgotten. Thoughts, ideas, and even memories. And from the brief and short-lived practices, Sienna would allow on nameless individuals as she supervised a short distance away, all of what I brought back came out in full force. I couldn't very well blame Sienna for her unwillingness to continue the project as she was subjecting her people to a great deal of distress.

I was interested in this new power, curious to the number of ways I could effectively implement it. The power wasn't so simple as an enhancement to my physical capabilities—but the possibility was still there. If I were desperate enough, I could essentially feed of waves of emotion throbbing off the person I touched as they reexperienced one of their most traumatic events. Sure, I could drown myself in it as I entered deeper into the abyss, but the option is and forever will be open to me in a time of need.

Slouching, feeling more than exhausted after the mental one-way discussion, I halted at the sound of my name being called. In one quick move, Derek slugged his arm over my shoulders and with a jubilant cry said, "Welcome to Lily Leaf, Terra."


	11. Walk Down Memory Lane

**Chapter 11**

In some ways, Lily Leaf was like my own birthplace—nostalgia creeping forth and almost begging me to reminisce on the simpler times of my life. The soft sinking ground that so enthusiastically absorbed the footprints of goers as they went about their business made for a pleasant sight. As we walked further in the town, past the wooden welcoming sign tenderly pierced into the soil's flesh, the sounds of purposeful strides along with the shrill screams of various chickens as they clucked their own meaningless greetings drifted to my human-like ears. Farmers, craftsmen, a local healer, and perhaps, if they were lucky enough, a frequently visiting merchant. But just as there were similarities, so too were there differences. There wasn't any foreboding sense lingering in the air as there had been when news of various opposing militarized forces inched themselves closer for the place of contention that my village unwillingly offered; nor was there that mesmerizing, unforgettable sight of people galloping from their homes, willingly trampling over their life's work, when the deceitful illusion of normalcy faded away in an unsurprising and bloody instant. Instead, there was a touch of wariness present as there had and always will be due to the unchanging presence of Grimm that stalked about.

I walked at a steady even pace taking care not to sink my feet too deep into the trip down memory lane. Subtly letting Derek take the front lead so that he would always be in my sight, I scanned his body for any tells of a sudden movement. I couldn't risk being outed as a potential threat to any of the kingdoms so early into the mission by having him go haywire in this obscure and unimportant village. His misplaced hatred of humans wouldn't cost me the accumulation of my efforts.

Each time his limb slightly shifted upwards and started to finger the feel of his gun, my hand darted from its fixed position in response and strongly smacked the triceps of his arm. I'd imagine we looked like an unusual sight, two teenagers somewhat of the same age walking one after the another, dressed in tensed faces as opposed to chatting cheerfully side-by-side. But with all the risk of this gamble, I couldn't afford to be worried about appearances. I just hoped that this shoddily thought-out practice run in introducing Derek to various humans of the village didn't end up with him drawing his revolver out in anger and pumping a non-factor full of dust. If it did, naturally the hassle of cleaning would fall on me. Call me lazy, but I wouldn't enjoy cleaning up an entire village just because my partner decided to get a little trigger happy with his feelings. But, better if such a thing were to happen where I'd at least have some control over it rather than the packed streets of Mistral.

Curious eyes had already begun to track us since our entrance into the village—visitors apparently stuck out easily against the usual crowd circumventing this place. They were unnaturally easygoing about it, content to simply watch from afar and continue to do everyday business with each other even though weapons were visibly strapped to our body. Did they think two relatively young children to be harmless? Did they consider us to be hunters or hunters-in-training without any prior convincing from our part? My lips twitched and then moved into a disappointed frown at their apparent lack of security. Maybe it was the pessimistic side of me talking, but I expected a tad more scrutiny from the people of this continent. I had "psyched" myself up for the upcoming confrontation, countlessly replaying possible scenarios over and over in my head, only to find out that all of the preparation was unneeded for the first segment of our trip. With a final irritated click of the tongue, I continued my walk of shame until I was unceremoniously flagged down by a woman into her years. Her brown hair that was molded into a bun flopped in all directions as she raced down from the further end of the street. Lips pressed into a thin and immovable line made for a suspicious sight as seriousness seemed to drip off it, and yet her contentious features contrasted against the springy rushed wave her hand had done and still continued to do. Shifting gears and determining how to deal with an unexpected arrival of a new variable, I slipped past Derek and subtly signaled to him that I would be taking the lead in this encounter. It wouldn't do for the woman to mistakenly upset the touchy boy—especially considering the revolver he held by his side. She'd be missing a great chunk of her head as a result.

Smoothing, straightening and even superficially dusting the unimpressive cotton fabric given to me, I responded in kind and acknowledged the woman who had traveled in such a rush to meet us. Dust kicked up as her shoes screeched against the ground, billows of crushed dirt comedically obscuring my view. She stood panting for breath, one hand still raised in welcoming and the other clutching the burn that inflamed her chest. As I waited for the woman to regain enough of her bearings to communicate the importance of her message, I peeked backwards and saw signs of a certain someone's fragile ego beginning to break. The boy was already snarling at the woman, teeth bared as a show of immature force, even before a proper exchange of words had commenced. The tips of his ears—the faunus' ones—had already begun to seep out from their binds and become small questionable mounds hidden only by a thin layer the hat he wore provided. I turned, swinging my body by the heel of my foot and sharply pulled the edges of the beanie over his head. The mounds became flattened at the low cost of his sharp whines at the temporary loss of sight.

"You guys…wouldn't happen to be Hunters in-training, now would you?"

The voice came out as a tad raggedy, small gaps between words as air forced itself back into those oxygen-deprived lungs of hers. The question offered us an easy-out, a simple and effective way of asserting the identity of our presumed covers without any of the hassles or risks an outsider would have when the claims of his status came only from his lips. And despite that, something squirming in those emerald eyes radiated a fragment of unplaced familiarity that begged for a respectable amount of honesty.

I swayed in place, casually shifting my weight to one of my hips and thought on how to proceed. But before I had settled on a decision, Derek had stormed past me and stood with his arms crossed beneath his chest and bellowed out a charming insult. I hadn't expected the woman to laugh heartily at being called a "hag", but when she drew her hand upwards and reached for a pat on foxy's head, I knew her friendly attitude had gone too far. Drawing Derek back with a sudden yank to his collar, I shoved myself forward and took his place. Her warm hand sifted through the ill-maintained locks of hair, breaching through even the roughest of patches that had accumulated over the year. It felt strange having someone be so openly affectionate, to be able to bypass the norms of personal space with just the directing of an uplifting smile and gentle eyes that seemed to have set the air at ease. I waited until she was done to blurt out an affirmative, curious to see how things would develop.

Her eyes lit up, a sort of hope being rekindled by the fanning of my words. The mellow balls of green that told of tenderness had become somewhat more fuller, a new layer of depth added to it as if our answer to her question had presented a new door to be opened. Using the both of her hands, she took mine into her own, bent to my small height, and put forth a request.

"Come with me to Mistral. Please!"

I would have drawn back reactively, uncomfortable with the sudden display of physical intimacy the woman had done, were it not for how her hands folded over my own preventing my escape. So, unable to keep the spreading uneasiness from affecting my better judgment, I reluctantly agreed to her wishes. She lifted herself to her natural height and sang out a grunt of happiness and sped off colored phrases of thanks.

"So, let's go!"

I blinked my eyes confused at the prospect of immediately leaving the village we had just arrived in; I had hoped for some information gathering on mistral, a proper meal, and maybe even a few hours of rest before we continued on the road.

"Now?"

She looked at me funnily, face twisted in thought, not understanding the reason for my hesitance.

"Well, if we don't hurry, we'll miss the competition. Was only missing some protection for the ride because the chief wouldn't let me leave without it, but now that I've got you guys we've got a tournament to catch."

And so with her guiding us to the plan carriage, we took our seats only on Derek's condition that he would be acting as the coachman.

"Carriage drawn, horses fed, and supplies packed. It's time for mama to see her little girl up on the big stage," she hollered.

At her command, Derek begrudgingly lifted the reins and brought them down hard. The horses cried a firm salute and just like that, we were off to travel through the grim-infested woods.

Surprised at the sudden jerk, my body fumbled backward threatening to spill over the seat of the carriage and out onto the passing ground. The woman sitting to the opposite of me let out a boisterous snort, amused at my close encounter with the dusty trail. Once my predicament had ended and I had grown accustomed to the rocky vibrations the carriage would make as it traversed the uneven ground, my eyes had begun to study the woman whom I sat mere feet away. While the blue garment she wore fitted her nicely, large black buttons fashionably layered down the front of her white blouse leading to plain yet elegant folds of the lower dress, she seemed to be uncomfortable with the choice of clothing—body constantly squirming as she continued to alternate between which leg to cross. I continued to take her appearance into thought while wondering the reason for her fidgetiness until the woman who was absentmindedly staring at the passing trees broke the silence.

"I…I forgot to even ask your names, didn't I?

Sorry, it's just…it's been a while since I've seen my daughter. She doesn't phone home, barely answering anything with an honest answer when I'm asking how she's doing. 'You wouldn't understand, anyway'…it just hurts, you know? Like something squeezing the heart.

I don't understand but I want to. I can't understand it because she won't explain anything to me. I want to wholeheartedly listen to what she's saying instead of just mindlessly nodding whenever she rambles on about Hunter-this and Hunter-that without putting it into words I can get. I don't understand any of it. Weapons? If you count farm tools then maybe I'd know a few things or two. Fighting? I'm not her father. Semblances? Haven't even unlocked my aura.

I've always been stuck here, stuck in the village of Lily Leaf but, that's not her life. No, she's moving on to bigger and better things. Things that I won't ever understand but I'll wish her the best on.

It's okay though.

Because despite it all, she'll always be here—alive and kicking. Even if she's not by my side living with me in this village out in the sticks, she'll be able to find her happiness elsewhere. She may not be a part of my life, but she will always stay in my heart.

Grow up big and strong, able to fight and win her own battles, and someday if she's lucky, have a family of her own like the one I had. Sure, my baby girl will have some sadness sprinkled over the years but she'll always bounce back. Because she's just like her father. Because she's strong.

Because she is a Nikos."


	12. Familiar Stranger

Had a lot of fun with this chapter since I tried something a bit different. Italics means that a different voice takes over.

 **Chapter 12**

It's weird—the idea that every action, every word, every thought is somehow connected at least partially to another. This Pyrrha—not the one that will be—is a different person. She's not the fledging adult that she would later on be; not the champion with the pitiable past that calls for tears on her behalf for the solitude she endured nor the powerful warrior that treated her opponents with a suitable amount of respect intermixed with caution that befitted a person of her station.

It feels unfair to compare the two—almost insulting to the version that had already suffered through the struggles that lined her destiny. This one cared only for glory, to prove to others and herself whom stood above it all. The other stood for love, clashing against an unimaginable might while willingly walking to her death to protect those precious to her. She didn't settle for weathering through the blows from the continuous onslaught of challengers that vied for the position as the best. Instead, she unknowingly etched her name into the mouths of the kingdoms that happily whispered the title of "Invincible Girl" to any who would listen.

Cheated at hearing the person who've I always thought highly of—a fighter who'd knowingly taken the burden of Remnant upon her sword and shield—be reduced to petulant child who knew only of how to destroy, I couldn't help but clench my hands into a fist and feel the wet stinging as blood flowed freely from the nail-pierced flesh and slunk off to the points of my fingers.

But…I couldn't fault her who she was because in time, she would learn to be the person the world needed her to be. What she will be in the future will make her past-self fade away in obscurity, ultimately forgotten as the threat of extinction had rung out a sickening screech when the walls of Beacon had fallen.

So, as she continued to tell me more of her child while Derek single-handedly disposed of various Grimm that had surrounded the carriage, I listened unabashedly to her words. Just as Pyrrha will do, I too have my own destiny I need to fulfill. She spoke of the drifting relationship with her daughter that had begun at the tragic death of her cherished husband—the driving factor for Pyrrha to prove the strength of those who held the Nikos name. She idolized her father, believing the news of his demise to be lies but when the casket containing his loving remains arrived before those innocent eyes, everything came crashing down. Frustrated with her mother's and her own weakness, she enrolled in Signal Academy using the influence of her father's name and spirited away from the plain farming lifestyle to the vastly different struggle of establishing herself as a competent fighter.

Pyrrha wasn't the person I knew of. But, the gears are doubtlessly in motion already. She will quickly rise before others, eclipsing countless years of practice with the unfair combination of peerless talent and determination of keeping the name of Pyrrha's father alive. Fueled by her desire to honor the memory of her father, she'll find herself atop it all—surrounded by none.

Teresa was thanking us now, sniffles and wracked-filled sobs unmistakably escaping from the usual tight-lipped mouth of hers. I didn't have any idea how to appease the woman's sorrow, to calm the nerves of the woman who hadn't seen the face of her daughter for months, so I just sat still and accepted her words. Crying I was used to—yes, it happened often when people realized how their lives' would end—but never had I bothered to really listen to the words that gushed out of their mouths as they made their final plea to whatever it is that governed the world. As her tale spun further, flowing through the entrance of my ears, the strings that controlled my being lifted themselves of their own accord and the fragile balance that I had safeguarded during my year in Remnant had finally begun to show cracks in it.

Was she looking at me—sneaking sideways glances when her head was turned to the passing scenery as she recounted her life's story? Did she notice the way my deviant body shivered as a tingling sensation rose up from within and dispersed through the ends of my limbs? The way my fingers contorted and stretched to their limits relishing the slight pull from sanity she was helping me with? Control…control…control. Check face—it's lifting. Habit is showing. Unused muscles, ones disregarded and eventually forgotten are running amok and trying to make themselves known. Wobbly hands lifted themselves up and followed the lines and creases of the face feeling the rigidness of its expression. Hands covered in tacky white gloves explored in depth while subtly covering the view from the woman. Smile? Grin? It's nice, isn't it. I'm happy—no, it didn't belong on my face. I don't deserve to be happy.

 _It's natural. Don't fight it._

This is what I've wanted—the ability to experience something other than run-of-the-mill sensations that were oh-so-boring and one-dimensional. Why couldn't I enjoy the fruits of life, feasting on all that could be offered? Why do I have to settle for the meager scraps thrown my way when what's out there could easily sate my appetite? There's no sense in controlling the soul, not when its foundation is muddled with grime.

You aren't like them—don't pretend to act as if you're a hero in this fantasy land.

You lost your capacity to change when you decided on living in that hellhole—the only path open for a person with a heart so entrenched and soaked in the ashes of it's victims is to accept the person that you unfortunately are.

Don't make that sad face—you don't deserve to be pitied.

I've still got a number years ahead of me—what I've felt cannot be erased.

I just want to live true to my desires—the pain is alright with me.

We don't have a place to return to so don't cling to the past.

Stop lying.

Hatred?

Misery?

Don't insult my degeneracy—you know me better than that. I've long gotten used to those kinds of emotions. If I wanted any part of repetitive things, I would've sought out Adam instead of Sienna and bathed in those monotonous emotional states. Acceptance. That's something entirely new—something thats been missing from my life. There wasn't anything like that where I came from. No, they squirmed, shriveled and muddy hands clawing at the sky unwilling to go on peacefully to their next life. They struggled, cursed, and ran completely uncaring for how disgraceful they looked as the torn clothes on their back battered against the wind. Instead of a showy ending for the courage they displayed in accepting their lot in life, they rebelled and were dragged back to be slowly and tortuously disposed of. Mesmerizing pink spots of sliced flesh would leave a blood-soaked trail when freshly chopped pieces of meat skidded against the uneven dusty ground to its final resting place of a soon-to-be-filled ditch.

They weren't like Pyrrha or even to a lesser extent, Teresa. They were just capable of two dull, unimaginative reactions that brought yawns to the mouth. No, no, no, no. Teresa felt sadness, but she wasn't like them. There's hope burning in that chest of hers. She accepts the past for what it is, her husband's dead corpse just as any other, but she still hopes for a future where she can walk beside her daughter; the woman was able to look beyond the fields of misery and experience the world for what it is. She dreams of a future off in a distance, not lined and filled with perfection, but entirely grounded in reality.

It's too bad it's never going to happen, huh? **I want to be there**. I want to be there when the realization happens—when she's crushed again and years of pent-up anguish is released for the world to see. When she's screaming and crying wondering why the spirit of her husband hadn't clung to their daughter and protected her from the dangers of the world. When she's tossing and turning for days on end wishing it be her instead of her sweet child. All her life had lead up to this point—a climatic and invigorating work of life's unfairness. Just a powerless bystander watching as her family is killed off one by one when it could have been prevented by a few words of warning. It could change but is it gonna happen? No. Why not? Because I said so; I decide. I am the observer now. Isn't it funny that the one with no strength—no power is the last to die? Isn't it just great?

 _This wasn't me talking._

My chest feels tight, ready to explode. Shallow breaths are taken, ears listening to the hard pounding of my heart. I have to get out of here—drag myself out of these thoughts. Need to put pressure on the face with my hands. Crush it. Crush this temptation. Regain control. I have a purpose.

 _You have nothing—only me._

This isn't your world. Fate, destiny, or whatever that is out there that governs the world—you aren't bound to it. They have their own roles to play, so let them be. Watch them as they grow, turned into adults by the death of their own and take notice of their rise and falls in the path to greatness. You can't protect them—nothing can. Nobody protected you from your own destiny so why do you feel the desire to do so for them. So, stay. Stay and wait. Listen to poor woman's tale that spoke of past while noticing her freshly opened wounds had begun leaking out the scent of vulnerability. Let Teresa enjoy the few moments of respite before the news of her daughter's suicidal venture rings throughout the world. Let her speak of the unknown past of Pyrrha, the sacrificial lamb of the eight hunters.

Relax. It's gonna happen one way or another so just be along for the ride, huh? You don't have any right to change anything— _yes, I do_.

That's why I came here to change things, to have a purpose. To make things right and help usher in a new era where living peacefully isn't an unreachable wish.

 _Melodramatic._

Sure, sure, you have options. But this isn't one of them. Just sit down for the ride and listen—open those dubious ears of yours. It feels great, doesn't it? The thunderous beatings of your heart as it begs for a release and the jittery feelings of the leg as it bounces in excitement. I mean, when do you have a front-view seat to a person's life story—especially one as tragic as her's. It's gonna be such a let down for her when Pyrrha dies.

 _She doesn't have to die._

She can live a good life. She's one of the best. She can learn what sacrifice is—the others can to even if she is released from her fate. She doesn't have to die; fate doesn't deserve stealing away a champion like Pyrrha.

 _You're right._

She doesn't have to die, but someone has to. Can you decide whom? Will it be that sweet little girl, Ruby—the weapons freak that just goes giggly whenever someone shows her their sword? Oh wait, she has those silver eyes, doesn't she? Can't kill her, can you? Trick question. Yes, you can! You're the master of your own fate this time around, yet you're unable to see even that. Her mother died so, so can she—won't they make such a lovely pair having their gravestones right next to each other. How about Yang, the fiery beauty? Did you know she loses an arm later on—oh who am I kidding of course you do, you're me! She's damaged goods, scrap waiting to be torn to shreds and be put out of her misery with all the trauma she suffered when Adam went a little choppy. You'd be doing her a favor, choosing her instead of the little sister she cherished even more than her own life. Cat girl? Blakey, yes that's the one. She's a real treat, whines constantly about the state of affairs of the treatment of faunus yet she's unwilling to bend her moral superiority. She won't have that problem when she's dead, now would she? Sienna might even approve of it with the message it sends—how is Ghira supposed to protect the faunus when he can't even protect his own daughter. Oh, oh, oh! I know, it's Weiss. We're already on our way to kill some Schnees—let's just add one more to the list. It'll look good on the resume when I return to Menagerie with a few heads that had white hair on them. Will it be Jaune, the fool of a knight with no training to back up his dreams. Maybe Pyrhha would get a competent leader by getting rid of the blond boy before things took off. What's about the other two on his team? Ren and Nora. Lets have them join their parents. It'll be a happy family reunion. I can even hear them crying now, overjoyed with seeing the faces of those that were robbed from them—blurred outlines of figures becoming more distinct and familiar as they get closer to the afterlife.

With the way you're going, you'll never succeed—not that you actually want to. The ghosts, their charred and bony fingers, still cling to you even after leaving the world we once knew. They shackle you to thoughts of eventual suicide, masquerading as the final act to your repentance. You need me to dispel the notion your split heart lives by—that doing something unforgivable meant that no future awaits you.

One day you'll realize my necessity and on that day, you'll realize you were a day too late.

 _And with that_ , the pressure gradually rescinded to a manageable amount though the stranger's words that it regarded as advice still incessantly pounded within the confines of my head. I couldn't overthink this—I wouldn't. It's not me. Focus…focus on what's before me. Focus on the first step in changing things. I can do it—no one else can. Leave everything else to the side to be dealt with on a later date.

And so, convincing myself that everything was all right for the time being, I leaned over to my right and emptied out the contents of my stomach.


	13. Kimgdom of Mistral

We switched—he's in there now, unwillingly being entertained by Teresa's mannerisms while I'm out in the wilderness giving some much-needed companionship to a handful of Grimm who had decided to test their mettle unto our passing carriage. There's a chance the fox boy might go loose, threatening to unload a few dust rounds into her skull over whatever transgression he could have fabricated since our meeting, but I had hoped for the gritty tone I had forced out between panted breaths to have been enough to assuage his vicious tendencies for the time being. Maybe actually interacting with the woman would do some good for the hateful faunus—she had already complimented him for being so similar to Pyrrha personality-wise, strange as that may be. But whatever the result of my decision may be, I needed to get away and distract myself from whatever it that had plagued my senses.

It wasn't the first time I had fought with these creatures considering the number of mandatory excursions Sienna would take me on to uninhabitable and coincidentally Grimm-infested areas of Menagerie. Fishing for the knives on my lower body while I kept sight of a small pack of boarbatusk that patiently inched themselves forward, I couldn't help but think of how Sienna described these beasts. They had intelligence—yes, but no speck of aura had ever been found on their beings meaning that the Grimm had no soul to speak of. So when their bodies disintegrated, bits and pieces blew off into the wind to eventually fade away alongside its predecessors, people rejoiced—nothing of value was lost. Both the Hunters and White Fang weren't killing the Grimm; instead, they were merely destroying an anomaly—eradicating a mutual threat to their survival.

At least that's how they phrased it.

"It's not killing if such creatures weren't alive in the first place," she said.

I didn't get it at the time and even now when several Grimm were digging their hooves into the soil, prepared to brutishly charge at the person that stood before them, the words still rang hollow. They felt something…as to what, that continued to elude me even after dispatching a considerable number of them since my arrival to Remnant's corner of the world.

I couldn't quite convince myself that their death held no weight.

I'm overthinking things again…aren't I? I need to stop. Don't involve myself with these meaningless questions whose answers hold no meaningful value to my purpose. Throw away the Stranger's demented words and squash the minor rebellions sprouting endlessly along the linings of my body.

The one that stood directly opposite to me flared its nostrils, a steam of hot air gushed back into the world, and ripped out a guttural challenge. It lifted its head and beckoned me forward, four blood-shot eyes on its mask strangely taunting my inner demon. The beast darted out, hooves brutally digging into the earth, and sped forward intent on skewering my body onto its tusks. Giving my darkened blade one last look over, I responded in kind to its demands and met the creature's linear advance.

Ducking to the side moments before the boarbatusk's tusks had ravaged my face, I lifted the blade's handle that was clutched in my hand and pierced the creature's body. The resistance was minimal, blade easily sinking beneath the matted hair of the Grimm and into its vulnerable side. As it sped past me, the dagger ripped through the boarbatusk's flesh and tore a gash of massive proportions. I lifted myself from my crouched position and eyed the blade that had managed to eviscerate the Grimm—not a single drop of blood was on it. Just another reminder of this world's absurdity.

Its panicked yelps brought me back from my thoughts, shrilled screams enveloping the normally tranquil land and ravaging the normalcy I had envisioned so often. I tilted my head to the side to get a better look at the downed beast that was struggling on its side and saw its legs kicking at the ground attempting to rid itself from the sudden immobility; clouds of dust were brewed from the boarbatusk's panicked state, chest greedily expanding with each breath it took. As seconds went by, one-by-one concerned squeals erupted from behind me.

Again, what did it mean to have a soul?

I twirled in place curious to see which of the boarbatusk would be the first to step forward and once one had, I fired off both knives at its mask and sped off again to meet its charge. As I was doing so, I could see a certain spark of awareness littered within its eyes. The beast's tusks swayed from side to side fully expecting for a repeat of the same action I had used before in disposing of the pack's leader. Taking advantage of the Grimm's sudden lurch forward when the blades sank deep into its bony mask, I jumped feet-first over the boarbatusk and sought out the blade's handles as I sailed past. Finding the familiar hilts, I gripped the two and held fast as the beast pillaged forward, unable to stop its unforgiving and detrimental assault. Just as before, the blades ripped through his being and soon after our separation, the boarbatusk's form had crumped to the ground where it lay resting motionless as clumps of its figure vanished.

Two in the pack of six killed within a span of a minute. It wasn't particularly astounding especially when compared to the likes of Kingdom's Hunters, but it was decent enough considering the White Fang's training regimen was more targeted at dealing with those of the more humanoid figure.

I tapped the steel blades against each other and hummed a pleased tune at the metallic sound that had rung out—these were reliable pieces of weaponry. As I readied myself once again, I pocketed the blades back into their holsters and flexed my appendages to break off any remaining rigidness garnered from sitting still in the carriage for so long. It wouldn't do just to rely solely on the weapons gifted to me; it was unbecoming of a Faunus not to be proficient in unarmed combat.

In a rare display of unison, the remaining boarbatusk stampeded.

—

Judging by Derek's body mirthfully shaking over my misfortune of getting clipped by one of the boarbatusk's tusks when I casually tried to summersault over it, I could tell the remainder of the ride to Mistral would be painfully annoying. I had to admit; it was careless of me to sustain such an injury, no matter how small it was, on Grimm whose place will forever be at the bottom of the totem pole power-wise. It just shows to tell you that the nerves were getting the better of me.

Deciding against sending a spiteful glare to Derek, I hobbled to the front of the carriage while ignoring the slight limp in my gait. From the corner of my eyes, I could his lithe body bellowing backward in laughter overwhelmed by my failure while the concerned woman to his front sent worried glances my way as she tried to placate my partner's amusement. Picking up my pace to spare myself from any more unneeded humiliation, I quickly made my way and once reaching the carriage, I plopped myself down on the wooden seat. I took the coarse rope the reins were made of in my hand, and as I did so, the horses pulling the carriage shook in anticipation ready to leave the trial so heavily infected with the lingering scent of a smell so eerily similar to that of decayed flesh.

The abrupt start of the carriage by the snapping of the reins signaled the end to the first real trial of my journey. The highlight of this relatively insignificant, unaccounted for activity was Derek tipping over the carriage at the horse's sudden jerk forward.

Things continued uneventfully for the remainder of our journey's days. Occasional Grimm would sprout from the woods and linger a short distance from our campsite, but they were almost comedically disposed of. Personally, I would have left the beasts alone to their purposeless wanderings, but Teresa wasn't a fan of the idea of having Grimm anywhere near our immediate vicinity of where we planned to rest. Derek objected at first, believing that the surrounding Grimm was a necessity in that they kept us "on our toes," but his tune did a one-eighty when I offered him the task of putting down the rabid beasts.

Slinking backward, trying to hide from the blinding light radiating down on me from the heaven above, I shoved a lengthy red blanket over my eyes. I lay scooted to the corner of the carriage pretending not to notice Teresa's curious gaze roaming over my body, searching for any tell. A groan escaped my lips, body unpleased at the realization that I was hiding from a harmless woman.

"You okay there, dear?"

The walls are closing in, sirens blaring a chilling sound that begged for obedience. Gritting my teeth and grunting out an affirmative for Teresa to hear, I embraced the darkness looming beneath the blanket's cover and let my mind drift off to times I've yet to see. I can feel my eyes becoming unfocused, surroundings slowly fading away into unrecognizable blobs and shifting to a clear-cut visage of a saddening reality. The golden sheen—unmistakable, unforgettable, and unforgivable—adorns that bittersweet blade. Its purpose is vulgarly distorted, a sickening mockery of what the sword represented before being tainted.

They had the same hands, didn't they? The way those fingers tenderly caressed the hilt, gently sliding the tip of the thumb along your body as they drank in your simplistic beauty. When you first swung, inexperienced and unsteady hands gripping your handle, you could feel their body shiver in eagerness for the journey that was to come. It was cute at first—the way those uncalloused hands heaved your body to the best of their abilities and failing miserably. And then, before you knew it, the boys you held by your side grew up. From innocent young hopefuls to Hunters boiling with rage. And as you followed him further and further into the abyss, never did you lose that radiant gleam you always had.

You were fine with being dragged to hell if it meant you could hold onto his hand until the very end.

When you were taken into the arms of another, a familiar face latching on to that same desperate wish, you hoped things would be different this time around—that maybe _this one_ would have the strength to not falter along his winding path. I'm sure his descendant was happy when he first laid eyes on you, and you equally as overjoyed in helping a boy who reminded you of a certain blond-haired man. In some way, a small part of you must have known that the wishes you were silently pleading would ring hollow.

Once already had you dirtied yourself at the behest of your owner, coating your body with the blood of those your cherished partner willed himself against. For a second time, you will be called upon to do the same—to take your rusty, scarred body into battle and carry out the ravings of the person you love.

Cherish the time you have left with the innocent boy before he becomes just as the tragic figure of his ancestor, a man who lost himself in the Great War and plunged the both of you into a never-ending hell. Enjoy the fleeting moments of your happiness, Crocea Mors, because I don't know if will ever come again.

I can't promise you that I will be able to keep Jaune on track, but I can try.

A sudden stop to the carriage brought me back from musing. I could hear the soft neighs of the horses as they pounded the dirt beneath them while shuffling in place. Grasping the blanket, I ripped the cloth from my face and was met with an amused smirk by a soft-looking individual carrying a wooden clipboard.

"Name?" I could tell he was going through the motions, the casual attitude embedded within his voice easily sounding off.

"Terra. We're helping Teresa, the woman, with passage."

He blinked, eyes then squinting dramatically while shifting sight to and from Teresa and I. I didn't care for being scrutinized. Rubbing the top of his head, slightly lifting the cap covering his bushy brown hair, he said, "A little young to be Hunters, aren't you?

I expected something like this, chapped lips already beginning to part and form my rehearsed response. Imagine my surprise when Teresa took it upon herself to answer for me.

"They are a part of…what was it…my daughter goes to it. She's a first year at the institution trying to be a certified Hunter."

"Haven Academy?"

She shook her head side-to-side, unpleased at his words. "No, no. That doesn't sound right. It has an S in it—I'm sure of it."

The man stroked his chin and contemplated a minute before, in a moment of clarity, snapped his fingers and said, "Sanctum! Huh, didn't know they allowed Sanctum students to take missions. I'm guessing you guys are headed to see the yearly tournament. Well, uh…thanks for being patient with the check. Since the two kids are local, just stick to them while you walk in the Kingdom. I'm sure I don't need to tell you this since you all look like a respectable bunch but don't do anything stupid. More importantly, don't get caught doing anything stupid. Enjoy your stay!"

The man stepped backward and hoisted the metal spear he held by his side up into the air and slammed the pole back to the ground twice before a blue pillar of light erupted from where he stood. Instinctively, I brought my forearms over my eyes to cover them from the brilliant light ,but before I had settled comfortably into a defensive position, I realized I felt no awkwardness from the bright pillar of light felt almost pleasant to look at—a small degree of calmness washing over me as I watched the colored threads flow endlessly up into the sky.

Upon hearing metallic clicks to my side, I twisted my head and felt a rush of air slam into my face as the doors to the Kingdom of Mistral finally opened. So, this was what all the fuss was about. The air had a different feel than I was expecting—it was more electrified if that made any sense; too many people in one place. Yeah, it was something like that. I could hear a soft buzzing reverberating in the air, a number of emotions with their unique tune unable to mesh well with others and becoming muddled as each layer toppled over the other with no decipherable order or reason to it. It was lively though, multiple conversations happening all at once as travelers were beckoned to by those manning the stalls located near the entrance of Mistral and its marketplace. I didn't care much for the buildings, mostly ignoring the automatic comparisons I made between the size of Menagerie and Lilyleaf's structures to Mistral and instead focused on the Kingdom's inhabitants. Faunus…walking about freely—not in chains. I had forgotten how progressive Mistral was in that they paid little mind to your race or creed, instead deciding the worth of an individual by their strength.

I clicked my tongue, annoyed at the sudden revelation and jumped to the side of Derek who was at the driver's seat. Teresa let loose a shriek at my sudden movement, but I couldn't afford to pay much mind to it, not when I wasn't sure as to how my partner-in-crime would react to the realization that maybe the teachings of the White Fang weren't entirely true. I snaked my arm around his neck in what may have looked as a comforting or even brotherly gesture, but in reality, it was me getting in position to incapacitate him if things went out of control. I bent down just enough to see the glazed eyes hiding beneath his curtain of hair and the tight-lipped expression marring his face. After a few torturous moments, of deciding my next course of action, he parted from his internal discussion and nodded contemplatively to himself. Naturally, I was curious about what the inner debate going on in that head of his, so I unashamedly asked.

"Terra, I just realized something."

"What?" My interest was peaked.

"We have a lot more enemies than I realized."

He was right, both of us do. We may not have the same ones, but for how grand our goals are, it's only fitting for our paths to be littered with those who would obstruct us. "That we do, Derek. That we do."

"Oh, and Terra?" He turned his head to face mine, cerulean eyes staring deep into my amber ones. "Don't fucking touch me."

Good to have you back, Derek.


	14. Relationships

Chapter 14

When I wake up, I'm afraid somebody might take my place.

The fear is immeasurable, easily disturbing my wistful dreams with its shivering dose of tasteless reality. Sometimes when I'm dragged back from my peaceful dream-like musing, I wished things had been different—that I had been born to a more forgiving fate. But then, a wave of shame would wash over me and dispel the tempting illusion of a seemingly more fulfilling life.

I can feel my mouth quivering, teeth chattering at the chilling reminder of the certainty that my time here on Remnant is limited. My consciousness is slowly being driven to the background, shriveled and decrepit fingers of the ghosts adorning my past heaving my mind to the unquenchable abyss. Even though my body will walk among the heroes of both past and future, the me that is now will cease to exist once the Stranger living inside me breaks free. And if such a thing were to happen, any possibility of atonement would be dashed away.

I don't have a future here. The realization sends a tangy sensation reverberating throughout my body, but the taste is not an unwelcome one.

It's to be expected.

I may cling to life, desperately clutching the coattails of the new generation of Hunters, but I do it solely out of selfishness. I'm not like Alisa or even Sienna, individuals who take it upon themselves to shelter unfortunate individuals and build their ragged bodies and minds anew. I'm just a damaged good who yearns for his final pitiful moments to have some meaning to them, however small it may be.

Things will be different this time around—they had to.

And once I had done my part in keeping the peace in this world, I'll end things once and for all. Everything in my life had gone so wrong and so quickly, but perhaps the finale of my life's story would conclude on an ending Alisa would be proud of. Even if I'm not there to see the future I played a part in creating, I'm sure that those I entrusted my hope to would realize the dream I had dedicated this life to.

I'm sure she would be disappointed with my final decision, but it's perfectly clear to me that what's living beneath my fragmented soul is of no good to anyone. I'm far too tired to keep my fears at bay.

I looked up to the sky, feeling the biting wind brush against my skin as I hopped along the rooftops of Mistral and reminisced on the woman who had brought me to tears.

You don't need to worry about me anymore, Alisa. For the first time in my life, a purpose lives inside me. The flames may hurt at the beginning, just as they had before, but soon the new searing sensation scarring my body would be just like the others that weigh my heavy soul down.

Let it all fall unto my ragged shoulders until the weight becomes too much to bear.

I'll be the one to be sacrificed so that the others would know the stakes of this war they were born into.

I accept my role as the scapegoat, the vile and decrepit creature that will be vilified for good reason. So, don't hold back on your hatred when I inevitably betray the trust you have so naively given to me. You will need it to grow—to be able to stand against the upcoming horrors you will face once I'm no longer there to act as your guide.

Be what I never had the chance to be.

I can hear the loud, uproarious cheers coming from up ahead. The countdown is commencing, bodies curiously strapped with unveiled weapons had begun to rush forward. The sporadic groups of promising hunters waved an informal hello as they passed Derek and I, playfully jostling with each other as they contended to be the first one to enter the Colosseum among them.

Derek huffed, exasperated at our slow and measured pace, and casually gave mention to the events that changed our planned schedule.

"I'm not going to apologize. It could've happened to anyone—even you. Just unlucky is all."

His voice sounded uneven, words hurriedly came out with little to no steel embedded within them. I quirked my head to the side, unsure of how to proceed. For now, I'll let him talk to his heart's content.

"Don't be quiet. Yeah, yeah, Mr. Perfect. For once, I want to hear what you're thinking. C'mon, let that bitching out."

He bit his lip, looking off into the distance and muttered something I couldn't hear.

"I understand." The words came out quick and easy.

He suddenly stopped, feet firmly grinding to an impressive halt on the building's roof. His usually sharp eyes widened in astonishment and then became muddled with uncertainty as his thoughts progressed further and further.

Standing a few feet ahead of Derek, I continued observing him even as his eyes hungrily roamed over my body for any physical tell of the meaning of my words. Maybe if I weren't in such a hurry to get this over with, I would've continued on and ignored his probing glances. I sighed to myself, a tad disappointed that I would succumb so easily to the awkward atmosphere brewing between us, and opened my mouth for a rather lengthy response.

"It's…okay." I motioned my arms widely, mimicking my flustered state.

"We are not angels. These kinds of things…are to be expected. Mistakes happen, and you did what you thought was right."

Even though the words came out convincingly enough, my stomach was churning just thinking about what had transpired back at the inn. If I hadn't been fast enough—quick enough—to stop his sudden assault, Derek would have wrung the woman's neck before my eyes. Her lifeless corpse would have been sprawled along the bland wooden floor, a symbol of the failure that is my existence.

Everything would have changed. And all because he accidentally let our travel plans slip out when we were unpacking Teresa's luggage.

I paused for a moment, loosening the tightness registered in my clenched jaw before continuing.

"Just be more careful."

He nodded at my words, eyes cast slightly downwards as he awkwardly shuffled his feet in place. I grumbled out an end to our conversation, throwing my attention to the crowd milling about below before Derek had drawn up the courage to ask another request of me.

I scanned the busy street, patiently sifting through the coming horde of people for a distinct-looking pudgy face. Once I had seen that amusing slack-jawed expression on her face, I was satisfied enough to continue venturing further into the heart of Mistral.

Just a simple greeting to an immature girl who had just begun the realization of her destiny and we'd be on our way to Atlas.

—

The way she sauntered down the steps of the podium, pale fingers desperately clasping the rings of the trophy, drew my eyes to her battered form. Her lush hair that I had envisioned so often was caked in dirt and sweat, messily running wild with no bun to call its own. Dents riddled the golden plate of armor that decorated her chest, a testament to both her strength and of the others that clashed against her sword and shield. As she basked in the cheers, eyeing the crowd that breathlessly watched the tournament's conclusion, I could see the thin smile embellishing her face shatter into a flurry of emotions.

I clutched the flesh over my heart, fervently embracing the sinking feeling welling up in my chest.

 _I was wrong. Again…Again…_ **Again, I had…I had…** _ **why was everything I did so wrong?**_

Why did I think Pyrrha was a brat, a cocky newborn who had yet to understand how the world worked? Why did I think there was only one side to the tale the mother spun?

She knows…she knows, but…she's in pain.

It hurt, hadn't it, Pyrrha? To pretend for so long that things were okay. To smile for others rather than yourself. You must have endured a lot.

Congratulations, Pyrrha.

It took some time, but it looks like your efforts have finally been validated.

I stared, shamelessly watching the 'Invincible Girl' cry. Her chest rattled with each breath, sobs relentlessly escaping from her quivering lips. The trophy dropped to her side, one hand still clenching the handle while the other sought to comfort her. The back of her hand sluggishly leapt to her face, childishly smearing the tears running down her face with the grime already there.

She looked beautiful—so expressive, so emotional, so _real._

I closed my eyes and took a breath. The taste was bittersweet. Maybe when things are over, my purpose complete, I'd be standing where she is now. Until then, watching from afar would have to make do.

I stood there patiently, content to bathe in Pyrrha's afterglow until I felt a rush of air by my side that broke me free from my comforting trance. Teresa brushed past me, running without any care as the dress she wore thrashed in the wind. The sound of her showy heels striking the pavement and splintering off into pieces was drowned out by the thunderous applause that rained down upon us all. She stumbled, body unused to the sudden and forceful movement. But each time she lurched forward, mere inches from falling on the ground, she staggered to her feet and renewed her sprint. And then, when she finally reached the daughter she thought so much of, she took the weeping girl into her arms and held her tight.

As the two enveloped each other, the cheers evolved into a raucous roar that vibrated the surface. I stayed rooted in place, mutely watching the reunion until Derek snagged my attention and suggested we wait in the dimly lit hall that lead to the arena, away from the numerous eyes watching the spectacle unfold.

I obliged, hesitantly stepping out of the light and into the darkness.

Later…later I would ruin their lives but not now—not this soon.

So we waited in our little corner, staring off into the distance for no particular reason. Minutes passed until the silence was broken.

"Don't tell Sienna."

I shook my head taken aback at the outburst and directed my eyes to his flickering figure.

"What?"

He twiddled with buttons on his shirt, avoiding my gaze. "Like…you know, don't tell Sienna. About the thing. About me messing up. She doesn't have to know."

Wordlessly I nodded, slightly confused why he even bothered to ask such a thing. I had no intentions of complicating the timeline by revealing unnecessary information.

He seemed relieved at my words, teeth finally barring their usual gleam. He snaked his arm around my body and gave me a squeeze. I jerked backward on reflex, unused to the sudden familiarity, but his grip only strengthened.

"You're touching me." I didn't like to be touched and I was sure he didn't as well.

His eyes lit up, orbs playfully speaking of a humor only he could attest to. "It's okay when I do it."

I see.

He relented after seeing my obvious discomfort, settling his hands by his hips and leaned against the grubby wall. He took a long breathe and then voiced his thoughts.

"I…, you're an okay guy, Terra."

"Than-"

"I thought you were one of those shitty mightier-than-thou kind-of guys, but you're pretty decent. Rough…yeah, really rough around the edges with all the things that are being said back in Menagerie bout what Ms. Sienna had you doing, but if someone like you thinks it's a good idea to keep her alive, who am I to disagree."

I looked around awkwardly, unsure of what to say in our little heart-to-heart chat.

"Thanks, uh…you too."

Derek snorted, redness beginning to color his face as he bellowed back in laughter. I heard a light chuckle from my blindside, oddly feminine sounding, and turned around to see Teresa holding the hand of a trailing girl named Pyrrha.

I erected to attention, completely caught off-guard at their sudden appearance. Luckily, before I had shot off an incoherent greeting, Teresa had decided to speak up.

"Am I interrupting something?" Her head tilted to the side, inquisitively asking while maintaining a slight smirk to her lips.

I stiffly shook my head.

She turned to her daughter, grandly gesturing to us and took it upon herself to break the ice.

"These lovely little gentlemen I've told you about helped me get here. Go on and introduce yourselves, fellas. She's single by the way."

She ended with a large cackle, pleased with her daughter's embarrassed reaction, and blended into the background. Pyrrha's emerald orbs looked at me expectantly. I faltered at first, eyes darting to my side pleading for Derek to take the lead until I saw his rigid body. I stuck out my hand and initiated contact.

"Terra."

She responded in kind, soft hand folding over my mine. Warm…it felt warm. Even with the gloves I wore, I could feel her heated pulse.

"Pyrrha. It's nice to meet you, Terra."

 _No, it wasn't. Not if you knew what I had in store for you._

Just as quickly as our fates joined, we separated. She turned to Derek expecting to continue along with our round of introductions. My partner kept his head turned and refused to acknowledge her. I let out an audible sigh and pointed towards the fox faunus.

"Derek. Forgive him. He's shy."

She nodded in understanding, easily accepting the answer. Derek didn't seem pleased with my excuse, but he made no move to correct me, preferring to look anywhere else but here.

It wasn't anything special—just a simple meeting between strangers. Years from now when I see her again, I'm sure only I would remember our previous encounter. But that's fine…it's how I preferred it.

As things were drawing to a close, I couldn't help but notice her attention waning. I could see a small group of people, similar to Pyrrha's age, a good distance back subtly eyeing us. It seemed like the champion had places to be.

I tapped Derek to get his attention and spoke up.

"We should be going."

"So soon?" Teresa's voice wavered, a tinge of unmistakeable concern littered within it. Her puffy eyes pierced my thoughts, momentarily stealing my resolution.

I nodded, finding the strength to fight back against my sudden weakness.

"Alright." She turned to her daughter and said, "Sweetie, let me see these two boys out, and I'll come right back."

Pyrrha licked her lips, words dancing gracelessly on her tongue. She ran her hand along the upper part of her arm, debating whether or not to voice her thoughts. Her eyes glittered coyly, settling on a decision.

"Uh Mom, some of my friends are celebrating with the tournament being over. Is it alright if I go for a bit? I have my scroll with me so you can just call me whenever."

The mother nodded, eyes becoming dim. Pyrrha sped away, sword and shielding clinking with each footstep. The curious group ushered her along, occasionally sending backward glances as they stepped into the light. And then, it was just us left wallowing in the darkness.

"It may not sound like much, but know that you have this old woman's thanks." The warmth in her voice has gotten cooler, no longer igniting my senses. I reached out and took her gift, marveling at how two thin slips of paper meant an end to our time in Mistral.

She placed her hand on my head, ruffling the top of my scalp, and with teary eyes, wished us luck. I felt it—the waves of frustration mixed tenderly with the thin, yet potent feeling of longing. Maybe in the few years, Teresa had left with her daughter, she would be able to patch the rift that had formed between them.

Atlas—the final step. It's finally here after all this time.

The place I would make the death of Weiss' mother my foundation in this new world.

Goodbye, Pyrrha Nikos.

Hello, Weiss Schnee.


	15. White Fang

The deafening silence dissipates under the mechanical purr. The air felt stale and lifeless sending me spiraling into a forced slumber. As the airship slowly lifted us into the glassy sky, a pervading sense of wrongness overrode my wary self. Bit by bit, the seams that held my tattered body together had come undone, distorting my stream of consciousness.

The warmth that fueled my selfish ambitions had been snuffed out, hollowing out my body and bringing the recollection to my story to a brief and unaccountable standstill.

Up in the air, so far away from anything that mattered, the unsatisfying atmosphere rendered my addiction to excess mute.

So I slept, unable to feel the electrifying forces that reigned over my body, and awoke to a familiar silhouette tussling with the straps that chained me to my seat. His tongue lulled out in concentration, oblivious to my awakening, as his curled fingers fiddled with the industrial-made leather.

With a wave of my hand, I motioned for Derek to step aside. He backpedaled at the sudden movement as if he had been caught red-handed doing something unwise.

"Terra…you're awake."

I tapped the button centered over my chest and watched with a passing fascination as the straps retracted into their containers. Pushing through the discomfort, I shakily stood up and felt my body come alive.

"I am."

"I couldn't wake you. Thought something was wrong". His eyes scrunched up in confusion, a mixture of curiosity and worry bleeding through his normally aggressive surface. He paused in his movements, body standing firm giving me time to settle my mind.

He waited for an answer, but I had none to give.

"I'm fine. It won't happen again." I shook off any lingering numbness and built my barriers up anew. Shut him out. He doesn't need to know. The future can't afford any mistakes—not at this point. Not while we're in Atlas.

"That's not what I—." He stretched out his arm, fingers empathetically grazing my shoulder until I brushed past his embrace and escaped from his clutches. I don't have time for this.

"Enough." Was that my voice? It sounded gritty. I hadn't realized I was clenching my teeth. I'm frustrated. Calm. _Calm down._ Breathe in and out. Don't let it get the better of you.

Remember why you're here. "Let's go."

He seemed unwilling to step aside at first, annoyed by my immediate dismissal until I made it apparent that I would continue on without him. Just like that, he stepped into place with a displeased grunt and wordlessly followed me out of the hull of the aircraft and into the bitter cold.

We shivered at the element's rough touch, unconsciously sinking deeper into our clothing as the flight attendants watched on in amusement at our departing. I cupped my hands together and blew a heated breath for warmth as I watched Atlas' people meander about even in the chilling cold. Shaking off the thin white coating of snow that had fallen onto my shoulders, I pivoted in place and addressed what needed to be done.

"Contact." Sienna had pull even in this desolate wasteland—in a kingdom built upon the broken backs of the faunus race. I just needed to find it.

I watched at how he lit up at my words, blood eagerly rushing to his face. His fingers twitched uncontrollably and slinked down to his hips preparing for a fight. " _Where?"_ The brooding atmosphere circling him evaporated in an instant and was replaced by captivating pulses of pure exhilaration that made my stomach flutter for a mesmerizing second. I shook my hand, dispersing the small, heated plume of condensed air that rose from his chapped lips.

"Not that kind. We have to meet up with Sienna's contact."

His slumped body straightened at the end of my clarification, color returning to its usual dull hue. Rolling his eyes as he slunk to his usual position behind me, he stuffed his unprotected hands back into the pockets of his pants.

"Yeah, and _where are they?",_ he drawled out.

"The buildings, Derek. Follow the buildings." It made some sense in my mind, but I wasn't sure if the idea would pan out. "The more run-down it looks, the closer we are."

"Closer to what?" He stared off into the distance, glancing curiously at the surrounding houses and stores for any meaning he could have missed. I tapped the edges of his hat, catching his attention, and lightly pressed down on the hidden appendages on his head.

"Faunus." I couldn't stop the ends of my lips from rising. Smiling teasingly at him, I whispered, "Did you forget that some of them live here?"

He balked at first, stuttering out an objection to the simple method until my amused stare eventually wore him down. So we continued on, trudging through the mounds of freshly piled snow as we kept an eye on the passing structures and the people that occupied them.

The air here felt dreary, a certain flatness to it that left my stomach rumbling for more. As we delved deeper into Atlas's outer district, the number of faunus increased exponentially. Most were huddled around lit barrels, pressing their bodies against the flame's warmth. The clothes they wore were several sizes too large, making their already malnourished frames seem smaller. As I watched their crumpled forms drag themselves through the numbing cold, I hadn't realized my hand had crept up to my face. So thin…almost as if their faces had sunken in on themselves.

"Glad you guys made it. I'm over here!" I turned at the chipper voice, finding a neighborly face limping towards us. The thin brown coat he wore rustled in the chilling wind, failing to hide patches of bruised, discolored flesh. He patiently waited for us to register his presence before approaching and crouching down eye-level to speak with us. Lightly wrapping his arms around both of our shoulders, he leaned in and whispered, "Keep your eyes on me. Some guys are following you—don't look. Don't look! Just stay close to me. This uncle will get you out of here."

He ended with a cheerful smile, a painfully obvious faked bravado set to ease our assumed worries. Holding out his hands, he stared at us expectantly.

I was tempted to go along with the man's offer, spurred onward by the familiar pang of bitter nostalgia pulsing deep within my chest, but before I had made my choice, Derek swatted the offending hand away.

"They White Fang?" He ignored the man's warning and glanced backward. Once he had locked on to a suspicious group that was watching from afar, he pointed at them and repeated his question. "Are they White Fang?"

"Thats—that's not important right now. Stop pointing!" He rushed over to Derek attempting to get my partner to lower his arms. I flinched at the loud smack as Derek forced the elderly man on his back.

"Oh for fuck's sake. Are they— _those fuckers over there—_ White Fang?" In an instant, he withdrew his revolver and placed the barrel end on the man's startled forehead. The bystander drew back at the icy metallic touch, eyes beginning to glaze over as he slumped to the ground in what I could only assume to be shock. His already fractured glasses broke apart at the fall, splintering into pieces and sinking deep into the mounds of white snow.

"Derek."

He turned at my call, clearly displeased at how slow things were progressing. " _What?_ We don't have all day, you know." Always just one way with Derek. He needs to open his eyes and pay attention already—what a waste.

"We can't use him anymore."

"Whattaya mean—oh. _Oh."_ He followed my gaze to the empty shell and sighed. "Old guy croaked out on us."

The eyes that subtly followed us turned elsewhere at the man's expiration, slinking back to the crackling embers as if nothing had happened. Most of the onlookers retreated to the shadows, leaving only their mismatching footprints behind, while the few that had enough metal in them stepped forward as if to challenge us. The supposed group of White Fang grunts had begun to close the distance between us, sprinting through the clumps of snow with their… _standard issued knives_ already drawn.

That's all I needed. I snatched Derek's revolver while he was busy mumbling to himself and held the gun out to them. _It's up to them to listen to reason._

Their rage-induced rush slowed to a halt, obvious confusion bleeding out. The leader of the group, the smallest of the three, settled his eyes on the revolver while the two by his side snarled out a warning. He seemed conflicted. Push needed.

"Take it." The leader shifted slightly at my request, annoyed by the unexpected outburst. He met my eyes for one last reassurance and then warily took the weapon into his hands.

"Feel the grip. There should be a White Fang insignia there." The three blinked at that, one of them wanting to see for himself until the leader slapped the hand away. He ran his fingers down the revolver's grip as Derek watched on in horror and said, "It's here. Invisible, yeah, but I can feel it. You guys White Fang too?"

Great, he understood. "We ar—"

"Don't fucking listen to them, Gilly! Didn't you see what they did to one of our own?" The lanky that stood beside the leader blurted out a curse while he tossed a glance to the body that lay forgotten behind us. "Doing that… not even caring that the old man was a faunus. Fuck 'em, Gilly." He sliced the air with his fist and broke apart from the group. "These guys aren't White Fang. They're fakes. "

"We can take them. They ain't got their gun. Just say the word and these guys are finished. Just say it, Gilly!" He crouched down on all fours, drawn claws easily sliding through the flaky snow.

Derek shuffled to the front, pushing past me and puffed out his chest. "Go ahead and try shit-brain. Even with Titan, fodder like you won't put a scratch on me."

It's suffocating really, the amount of tension bubbling in the air. I can feel the skin on the back of my neck shiver in delight, feeling the alluring vibrations that erupted from the tremors within their voices. It's building up for a grand finale—an episode of complete and utter joy that whisks away our heated breaths. Shame it needed to be shut down.

"Derek."

"Tet."

The two hesitantly withdrew at our command, scowls plainly written on their face as they fell back to their respective places.

The leader rubbed the back of his neck and tilted his head in an awkward but endearing way. "Haha, sorry about that. Things have been a little high-strung round here the past couple of weeks… White Fang, huh?"

"Correct."

"Figured." He planted his hand on the back of his follower's head—the vocal one—and pushed down. "Forgive Tet, he means well—just a bit hotheaded."

"It's of no concern." Apologies weren't necessary, not to me.

"I'm guessing you want to see Reiki? Bigwigs like you guys don't really show up this part of the world for no reason." Oh? So he knew the importance of the mark.

The quiet one of the group had finally roused himself to life, eyes gleaming with a sparked interest. "You know them, Gilly?"

The blond haired man chuckled at that, chapped lips parting to reveal pearly white fangs. "Nah, never seen them before in my life. The emblem on the gun though?" He raised the weapon. "That's a different story. I remember them from a chat I had with Reiki. Only given to those with unquestionable loyalty and origins—something faunus from Atlas could never even dream to get their hands on. So tell me, boys, what is White Fang from Menagerie doing out here in this faunus-forsaken shithole.

I bit back a frown, unpleased at his change of tone. Maybe I had been too optimistic thinking that one of them would be able to see reason.

"You know I can't tell you that." He didn't honestly expect to disclose Sienna's plan to him, did he? Even Derek, the talkative one of our merry band, had learned from his past mistake and wouldn't entertain the idea of letting private information slip from his lips.

Gilly had no problems showing his annoyance, letting a hollow cackle rip through the dry air. "Of course not. Why bother telling us lowly Atlas-born faunus your plans. I mean, it's not like this is our fucking home you're playing in!"

"We don't mean any harm. Just point us to the man called Reiki." Have to de-escalate the situation, calm the rising blood before we're forced to slaughter them.

"You know what, I'll do you one better kiddos. I'll personally take you to Reiki. _Come hither children_." His voiced oozed of animosity, much to the delight of his slender companion. "Oh, and here's your gun shorty." Without care, he hurled the revolver over my head and into the arms of a grumbling Derek.

We followed steps behind them, vigilantly combing the passing surroundings for any inkling of a trap. Well, in actuality, it was mostly just me. Derek was off to the side complaining about our mistreatment at the hands of our newly met White Fang brothers while he nuzzled up against his prized possession.

"Terra, I need you to be honest with me. Am I short?" I could feel a headache beginning to form, his antics becoming too much for me to handle.

"You're fine, same height as me."

"But that's the thing Terra, you're thirteen. _I'm fifteen_. I should be at least a few inches taller than you," he whined. Guess I went with the wrong answer. "Even my mentor calls me shrimp. Like what the fuck man."

"Does it matter?"

"Well, not really, but—"

"Then, nothing. Focus on what you can control." Before he had formulated a response, the group leading us stopped at the door of an unimpressive average-sized shack.

"This?" I had expected more, especially from the tall tales I had heard about the White Fang Atlas branch.

"It may not be the palaces and castles you Menagerie folk are used to, but it's home." Gilly twirled mockingly around and in one fell swoop bowed. "Welcome to the White Fang's HQ, _Atlas Style."_

"What?" He stepped back and leaned against the crooked door as he took in our shock. "You think we can get a base of operations out in the open in a place like Atlas? Keep dreaming; it's underground," he stated dully.

His companions snickered as they showed us in, throwing the dusty carpet that covered the floor off to the side. Their hands roamed the ground until one of them uncovered a small, hidden latch at the center of the room and threw the handle open. As we descended down a fight of stairs, poorly lit lamps illuminating our way, I could vaguely hear the soft sound of subdued chatter coming up ahead.

I waited patiently by the metal door, clicking the heels of my shoes together, while Derek separated from the group and headed on inside to inform Reiki of our arrival. His two companions stayed behind, occupying one side of the hall while Derek and I did the same to the opposite. Maybe I would have been offended by the notion that we were being kept under watch, but the entire ordeal of trying to maintain peace between the two parties had left me drained.

We stayed like that for some time, not bothering to start up a conversation with each other until the grating sound of the metal door being opened brought the room back to life. A muscular beast stepped from the light's embrace, the chains wrapped around his torso clinking as they collided against the metal plating adorning his chest.

The trio stepped aside reverently, showing no signs of hesitance within their movements.

As he came forward, easily towering over us with his impressive frame, I thought back to the only person who had shaken me to my core with only his stare. This man…Reiki; He was on the same level as Ghira. From the moment he entered, those smoldering eyes had already judged my worth.

What a scary world Remnant is.

"More Menagerie operatives?" He cupped his chin in thought and said, "What's this…the fourth time this year?"

Gilly scoffed before throwing out a scathing remark. "That we know of."

"Yes,..that we know of, but never mind that. I believe a welcoming is in order. Greetings to you Sentinels of Menagerie. It's always an honor seeing faunus take up the White Fang's noble cause, especially at such a young age."

The short one of the trio pushed forward, knocking down the welcoming arms of Reiki. "Don't…don't start with that Reiki. Not here, not when we finally have Menagerie's ears. Tell them what you always tell me."

His voice was weak at first, trembling as he struggled to put his emotions into words. From a unsteady whisper he continued on to eventually form an intense cry that shook my core.

"Go on, Reiki. Tell them! Tell them what you've been telling me—that these ops they've been doing are slowly killing us. How we're being driven from our homes, forced to waste away in the snow with empty stomachs. How the sympathizers who were drawn to our cause turned their backs on us when they realized the killing would go on. _How we're forced to watch our brothers and sisters drop in the streets like animals knowing we could do nothing to help them."_

"It's a game to them. Just a sick ploy to make themselves feel good about themselves— as if they give a rat's ass about the faunus scattered around the world. Treating our home like it's their personal playground—it's…it's unforgivable.

Reiki slammed the wall with his fist, cracks shooting up along the stone from the impact. "Gilly! Stop this nonsense."

He didn't. Instead, he pushed forward, doubling down on his efforts.

"Don't you see, Reiki? No matter what you do, you'll never be accepted as one of them—you were born here on Atlas, not Menagerie. So stop fooling yourself and accept the truth, brother! They don't deserve you."

I shuddered at the blast of wind, instinctively bringing my forearm to cover my eyes. Reiki crossed the distance in that instant, pinning Gilly to the wall by his collar. "You think a war between the factions is what we need right now?" He ignored how Gilly struggled in his grip, legs flailing helplessly above the floor.

"We may share the same blood, brother, but remember who's in charge." He let Gilly's body drop to the ground and waved for the two of the man's companions to take the bruised body back into the compound. Smoothing out his electrified hair, he set his sights upon us again.

"Whatever it is that you're doing, know that you will have the support you need. But a word of advice if I may—your actions have consequences, and we are the ones that have to live with them. Be discreet if you can help it."

Impossible.

Regardless of how the mission ended, there would be waves from my actions. And from the looks of it, the faunus living in Atlas would be to feel the brunt force of it. Even though I knew for certain that a considerable amount of suffering would befall them, I still nodded my head to Reiki.

I knew it and I suspected he knew it as well, but I couldn't find it in me to blame him for trying. He's a leader to his people after all.

After sparing an apology for what we had witnessed, he offered us shelter at a nearby cabin that already housed several faunus. Derek balked at the lack of privacy, throwing a disgruntled grunt now and then as we walked to our temporary residence, but I waved his concern off. Though it was inconvenient having to room with unaccounted for variables, the meeting had left me satisfied.

We were given the only thing missing to make this journey successful—the most vital part of any mission.

Information.

A military parade is set to convene in the coming days, an event so prestigious that the influential Schnee family would be sure to attend. And therein lies my moment of opportunity, a small window to bring this chapter to a close. Rumor has it that the relationship between Weiss' parents is on the slopes, the rift between the two lovers slowly expanding.

I'm laying it all down on a gamble, risking everything on the basis that Jacques would be the one to attend the military procession while the mother would stay behind and wallow in her gilded cage.

And so I went to bed with a smile on my face, for the first time excited at what the future held.


	16. It's not my fault

Chapter 15 - It's not my fault

Troubles closing in. But you knew that, didn't you? The mischievous smirk tugging on your lips as you sauntered my way tells me all I need to know. Your eyes glittered with a certain sharpness that matched the gleam of my blade as it fussily scrapped against the room's door. The sorrow impaling you is a sight plain to see, dark tendrils viciously coiling around your pale, mystique skin.

I wonder, how long must've you waited in this gilded cage for someone to set you free—to save you from a life that is not your own to live.

If I were stronger, born to a path befitting of a hero, maybe things would have been different. Instead of staring at you from across the room, watching your breathtaking blue eyes trail my knife's movements, I would have made the impossible a reality and broken the chains that bound your family to this fate.

There's a blinding amount of acceptance burning within your eyes. Without a shadow of a doubt, you were prepared for my arrival. It sounds insane, but maybe that's just how the world works.

What you were unwilling to do—to take your own life— I had done for you; now, no one could question the love you held within your heart for those that were left behind. I just hope you had a chance to say goodbye.

When I dashed forward, blade pointed straight, I couldn't help but shudder at how you welcomed me with open arms. You didn't struggle, not even when the knife pierced your flesh and sank deep into your heart. Instead, you fell into my arms, weakly clutching the chest that stole your breath away and whispered a final parting.

As you crumpled to the ground, blood spurting from the cracks in your instinctive grip, I could only think of one regret. Your name—I didn't know it. I only knew you by your title, a moniker that failed to do you justice as both a person and an individual.

Your story is a mystery, Mother of Weiss—one that I would have liked to know.

I knelt beside your downed body, accompanying you in your final moments. I'm not sure if you noticed my presence, face buried deep in blood, but some part of me wished to think so.

Your story is at its end, but rest easy. Your children are beloved by fate. They will struggle—god knows how much they'll struggle—but, they will succeed. The bubbles of air that rode gently atop the bloody pool had finally burst. And with it, the certainty of your death was made.

Of all the lies I've heard, 'Thank You' was my favorite.

With my gloved hand, I dragged my finger through the river of rose-colored blood, sifting through the thick liquid, and marked her neck with a line. I needed proof—something tangible to bring back to Sienna. Something that made my success here unquestionable to all. I gripped a handful of her hair, holding the stringless body in place, and planted my blade's razor edge against the woman's pearly white skin—just a simple cut to an already dead body.

The groan at my back left me annoyed, disturbing the will I had built up. Don't look at me like that, Derek. I don't want to be judged—not by you. Atlas could cover this whole thing up, making everything we did pointless. _Her head—I need it._

They would have to understand.

"S-stop it." I jolted at the high-pitched sound, knife fumbling out of my grip and clattering onto the floor. _Who?_

I turned towards the voice, mind racing on how I'm going to deal with the unexpected variable. Guard? Unlikely. Sounded too young. Did Atlas employ child soldiers? Unknown. Humanoid robots? Doubt it. The voice had unmistakable emotion laced within it. Did that rule out androids like Penny? Possibly.

When I saw the person standing before us, my breath hitched. I stumbled backward in disbelief, a moment of confusion and frustration overtaking my senses. She stood there panting, shakily gripping the handle of a piece of cutlery with both hands.

 _No, no, no,_ _ **no.**_ _Why you? Anyone, but you._ The parade—you were supposed to be there enjoying yourself. What are you doing here? Why witness something like this?

I shifted my attention from the trembling girl standing before us to the corpse resting at our feet. _"You, bitch"._ The words came out scathingly, the intense fury building within me finally bursting. Pretending not to notice the flinch in Weiss' body, I stepped toward the bloody woman. Tricked…I was made for a fool. You knew Weiss—your own daughter—was in the room and yet…a _nd yet you allowed yourself to die without putting up a fight._

Was that why she was smirking? Laughing at me from beyond the grave—thinking that all this was a joke. I fulfilled her wish and I'm repaid like this? My foot met her side, flipping the downed body over to the her front.

 _ **Look at me!**_

 _You think I wanted this—to do this to the people I loved?_ _ **I'm not your enemy!**_ _I've been helping your child since day one, tearing myself apart for the chance to keep this world alive._

 _ **This is all your fault.**_

I ground the body against the floor, feeling the woman's fragile bones give out under my heel. Bits of blood flew into the air after every stomp, marking my face with small drops of the liquid. I could hear screaming in the background, pleading cries begging me to stop as sickening crunches rang out in the room.

But when the sobbing stopped, silence returning to the room, I knew something had happened. I pushed the wet strands of hair out of sight and turned to where Weiss once stood.

She was there, struggling for air as Derek hoisted her into the air, hand wrapped around her thin neck. Tears leaked out of puffy eyes, panic laced within those terrified orbs. I saw how even when she was pinned against the wall, futilely fighting against a person several times stronger than her, the fire within her had yet to die.

I wanted to scream—to tell him to stop—but the words failed to come out. My body felt heavy, almost as if I was forced to witness the exact moment of my life's failure by some otherworldly power.

Weiss wasn't supposed to die here. _RWBY needed her._

 **She's losing.**

The realization seared fear into my heart.

 _Again..again. It's happening all over._ I gave up everything. **Everything.** And it still means nothing. Not to him. Not to you. Not to myself. I'm the reason this is happening again— _I'm letting it._

My eyes stayed with the pale girl, watching at how she was slowly lifted into the air. Her kicking had stopped, small body hanging limply against Derek's hold. The snarky mouth I had traced so often onto my lips had gone slack.

My light was being taken away.

I remember limping forward, only hearing the intense beatings of my heart as I waddled through a puddle of blood. He didn't notice my presence even as I stepped close, hovering directly behind him.

In one quick motion, I pierced the air.

Gripping a fistful of hair, I yanked his head backward, onto my chest, and jammed the familiar blade upwards into his skull. He was struggling, arms flailing by my side as the blade noisily scrapped against his aura. An audible crack came first—the sound of his aura shattering; then the unmistakable squelching sound of a blade sinking deep into flesh rang next.

A dull thud sounded off at the fall as he collapsed to the ground, rustling Weiss' eyes open.

I held still, unsure of what to do, until I stepped over the lifeless body. Ignoring the blank stare that fitted his face as I passed him, I walked towards the terrified girl who had scampered off to the corner of the room. I crept forward, curiously watching at how her fingers pressed against each other, hands tightly folded over her eyes. Her body shook at the sound of my footsteps, sinking deeper into the floor as I drew closer.

I knew I had to leave, to escape off into the night, but my body refused to move.

She needed me— _Weiss needed me._

She's scared. I have to help her—assure the girl that everything is okay. The bad man is gone now. I took care of him. I don't need any thanks. I did this all for you. All I want is for you to be you. I need you to be the person I watched in that little white room I was trapped in—the person with the sharp tongue and witty attitude. **I need you to be Weiss.**

I knelt and caressed the top of her head. She flinched at my touch, drawing backward as if she had been stung. I pushed through her frightened squeaks and set my hands atop of hers.

 _I just had to see her._

I pried the hands that latched onto her face and came mask-to-face with the small girl. _There she is. There's my Weiss._ My gloved hand settled on her cheek, thumb gently wiping away the odd sprays of blood and tears. She looked to the side, refusing to even bother with me, but strangely, I was fine with it. I just needed to know that she was okay.

She was perfect—no mark on her except for the bruising around her neck. Everything is going to be okay. I prevented it. She's not dead—she's alive. I can still continue. I still have a chance. She's perfe—

 **She's not supposed to be.**

 _It's missing. Where is it?_ _ **Where is it!?**_ _She always had it. It had to be here._ I gripped her chin, holding her in place, and frantically searched her face for the mark that defined her.

Nothing…absolutely nothing. Her skin was flawless.

 _I…I'm meant to do this, aren't I? Derek was supposed to be one who gave her the scar, but it's up to me now. I have to._ _ **I have to**_ _—if I don't, the world will crumble._

 _I'll make it quick, Weiss. I promise._

She threw herself in all directions once the knife came into view, frantically trying to escape from my grip. Her eyes darted in all directions, silently pleading for some hidden savior to come to her rescue. She started to cry once I had pressed down hard enough to keep her in place. As I dragged the blade across her face, carefully replicating the scar I had seen on her future self, she started to scream.

She was terrified—I knew that, but…she should never have touched me. Her hands latched onto my unprotected neck and then I was flooded with everything she felt. Her insecurities, sorrow, fears, hatred—it all became mine. Once my vision had begun to blur, I knew I had no time left.

He was right. He knew that one day, I would screw up. I just didn't expect it to be this soon…

The last thing I heard was the sharp whistle of metal slicing through the air.


	17. The Person I Thought I Knew

**Chapter 17: The Person I Thought I Knew**

I explicitly remember throwing a warning his way. Instead of listening, he doubles down like an idiot and starts preaching about the "middle path" and how it's the only way to go despite not even following the advice himself. Is it too much to ask for a simple compromise—I get my grand finale and he gets to feel all warm and fuzzy inside, thinking he played a part in saving the world?

How cruel do you have to be to pretend someone as sweet as me didn't exist?

Turning my head towards the beaten girl, I whistled. "Looks like both of us got the short end of the stick on this one. I get stuck cleaning up this mess, and you end up with…well this."

Grabbing her hair, I lifted the catatonic girl for a better view. "He sure fucked you up, Weissy—kind of jealous I wasn't the one to do it. Now, now, little girl, it might be a bit difficult for you, but I'm going to need you to put some feeling in that face of yours. A princess has to smile for their savior, and by the sound of it, you have to do it quick. They're coming."

Lightly slapping the pale girl's cheeks to give her some life, I said, "Come on baby girl, smile for Terra. Not the Terra that maimed you—oh no, he's a very naughty suicidal freak that just wants to be an idiot in both his on-time and off-time—do it for the nice makeup specialist Terra that's taking his valuable time to pretty you up."

I held her lips to my ear, nodding contemplatively as I feigned a surprised voice. "What's that, Ms. Schnee? Don't want to look all dolled up for these rude unexpected and unwelcome guests? Well, I for one don't blame you one bit. And here I thought Atlesian folk understood the concept of common decency!"

I leaned against the wall, cradling the princess in my arms, as I waited for her saviors to come. Maybe I could snag a few souvenirs before I make my eventual escape.

Bits of wood suddenly sprayed into the air, clattering noisily onto the floor as it rolled to a stop before me. The distinct sound of heels clacking against the marble accompanied by the familiar militarized shuffling of feet reverberated within the room. She stepped from the rubble, flanked by two Atlas soldiers, brandishing a blade that was made solely for her to wield.

"Now that's a face I hadn't expected to see so soon." She turned in my direction, beginning to form a command until she caught sight of who I held within my arms. "That's a good look you're giving me."

She snarled, emptying a curse from those perky lips of hers before brutishly waving her rapier. Her subordinates followed the obvious order, surrounding me while she slowly inched forward.

"You're supposed to be Winter?." I let out a shrill laugh.

She bristled at my remark, unable to stop the slight quiver in her sword as her body shook in disbelief. Her intense eyes became muddled, a thin string of doubt tangling her resolution before the distraction eventually snaps and conviction is restored. She continues on, pressing through the uncertainty, and adopts a regal pose—one arm elegantly folded behind the back while the other effortlessly holding the saber of her choice.

I sneered at the woman. "What's Ironwood been teaching you?" Her eyes flickered violently, a new layer of wariness filling her. "The Winter I knew would've had the mind to pay attention to her surroundings." She stumbled back, her already pale face turning deathly ill.

" **GET OUT!** " She barked out a command to the encroaching troops and jumped backward. Without any hesitation, the soldiers obeyed the order. One of them, in their haste, tumbled to the ground, recklessly tripping over something in his path. The panicked yelp by the soldier brought all our eyes onto him and the object that sent him sprawling to the floor.

"What'll you do now, Winter?"

I pulled Weiss close, nestling her head onto my chest, and silently watched Winter's eyes widen. The realization that her mother was dead—I just had to see it.

She coughed, sputtering out nonsense before having her arms clutch the sides of her body. I tilted my head, confused at the odd reaction until I felt her smoldering gaze on me. " _You're a contender—I can feel it."_

I licked my lips, excited for the first time since taking over this body. Even from this distance, I could smell the desperation on her. No…that wouldn't be fair to say. With what she was, it wouldn't do her justice. Her body reeked of a myriad of emotions, each stronger than the next—denial, disbelief, confusion, anger, sorrow, and then hatred all tightly wound into an intoxicating package.

" **Can you give me my finale, Winter?** "

A white glow appeared behind her resembling the shape of a snowflake. I tossed Weiss to the side and took hold of my blades.

She was betting it all—the lives of her soldiers, her sister, and herself. And in return, I'll wager the grand finale I had already envisioned and my other self's desperate wish.

The air feels cold, numbness beginning to seep deep into my bones. With each passing second, the twirling snowflake's humming grew louder. Whatever Winter's doing, it's something big. Her hair was billowing back and forth, wind savagely running free within her realm of influence. Sweat began to pour from my face, instincts kicked into overdrive warning me of an impending attack.

I needed to find out whether she's the one to tighten the noose around my neck.

" **Well Winter, what are you waiting for?"**

The snowflake shattered, a current of wind unleashed.

She blinked through the air, vanishing from sight except for a few traces of her afterimage. I raised my knives with a smile plastered on my face. Parry or die—those were my only options.

Just before we clashed, her pristine face contorted with hatred. Her saber kissed my knives, a fiery show of sparks completely engulfing my sight. I bent back at the blow, surprised at the weight of her swing. My metal knives groaned under the stress but held still. As I redirected her blade to the side, I looked back to Winter and saw a smirk on her lips.

Abandoning her hold onto the saber, she twirled her body and struck deep. My body went rigid, hands lazily clutching the blade embedded into my stomach. "A sword in your…sword? How sneaky of you. I forgot you had a thing like that."

She ignored my compliment, instead choosing to place her mouth next to my ear. "You, your master, and the entirety of that cursed organization will regret this, White Fang scum. Putting your disgusting hands on my family—killing my mother and scarring my sister—I'll make sure you suffer." She grabbed my hair and pulled back, slamming my head onto the wall.

I coughed out blood at the forceful movement, mouth slowly filling with the thick fluid. Pushing myself to talk, I said,"You know Winter, the other me really liked you."

"I don't recall asking." She threateningly pressed her saber against my neck.

"The whole spiel about how 'emotions can grant you strength, but you must never let them overpower you'—he took it to heart." She eyed me dangerously, again reasserting her dominance over me by pressing the blade hard enough to draw blood.

"Quiet. Save the talking for the interrogators."

"In fact, I kind of like you too—you've got a certain stubbornness that I can't help find appealing. But you're still fresh—very wet behind the ears. _I can smell it on you. What's Ironwood been doing with such a fine tool such as yourself? Not letting it flourish and become something terrifying, instead chaining it by teaching the object restraint and mercy._ **It's revolting what he's done to you** _ **.**_ _If you were Commander's piece, this dainty sword of yours would've found its way inside my heart._ _ **Nice try Winter, but you're not the one I'm looking for.**_ _"_ I placed my gloved hands on the blade's edge and gripped tightly. "So you're useless to me. Only he can…he understands me—he does. You're not him so don't waste any more of my time!"

As my body slid along the blade's edge, my gloves became frayed. Blots of red began to bleed from my hands, staining both the thin fabric covering my skin and the sword's body. Pulling closer to Winter, I reached upwards, taking advantage of her stunned state, and planted my hand on her face. Her pale white skin became red, an excessive amount of blood smeared onto it.

She went slack at my touch, slumping to the ground with a pained expression. When we separated, a visual played inside my head. A door…I was running to it. Slicing the obstacle to pieces revealed a masked stranger at the end of the room. He was holding a pale girl in his arms.

Was this…Winter's memory?

" **Share some more with me, sister!** It was a fucking rush to experience all that in a split second. I want another go!" Freeing myself from the wall by pushing against the sword's hilt, I propped Winter back up. "Come on Specialist, one more for the road."

A beam of light passed by me, shattering the impressive window into pieces.

"Hey fur-face, how 'bout you take on someone your own size!"

I turned to the two Atlas soldiers who had their weapons trained on me. "I'm the shortest one here."

"Yeah? So leave then fuck-face!" My lips lifted at the man's words, a moment of amusement clearing me from my euphoric haze. Completely forgot about these two fodder.

"Del! We doing this Del!?" The soldier twisted his neck and looked to his partner.

"Can't leave our princess out in the cold, now can we, Maddy? Just gotta hold out long enough for the big man to get here; should be easy enough for the two of us…" The one named Del bit his lip and placed his eye on the sight of his gun. "He'll fuck this kid up…I know he will."

" **Don't underestimate Atlas!"** The two soldiers screamed out their resolution.

"I'm done."

"Die White Fa—huh?" One of the soldiers lifted up his visor and squinted at me.

"I said I'm done. I got sidetracked—my job is over so I'm leaving. Plus I don't think my partner would be too happy if I killed anymore." I rubbed the back of my neck while I looked around the room.

"That—that doesn't matter! We can't just let you leave—not with what you've done."

"It's either that or everyone here dies—myself included." I leveled a stare against them. Ironwood is coming and with the state I'm in, I wouldn't last 10 seconds against him.

"Then we'll die! At least we tried stopping you rather than letting you go free." The soldier waved his gun, frustration beginning to fill his movements.

"Maddy…it's okay.

The one with his visor up turned to his partner and said, "Don't Maddy me, Del! Just a minute ago, you were ready to fight till the end. What happened]

"That was a minute ago, Maddy! Things have changed. We don't have to fight a losing battle."

"How could we look General Ironwood in the eyes" the other one spat out.

"We can— _together with Specialist Winter and her sister_. It's just…" Del sighed, his voice cracking when continuing. "If anyone asks, tell them this was my decision and mine alone. So just let the bastard go, Maddy."

I clapped my hands, pleased at how things progressed. "Glad I could get your cooperation! Oh, and could you get my companion's pistol over there? " I pointed toward Derek's forgotten body. The one in front of me nodded, whispering something to his partner before sending him off to pick up my memento.

"He won't forget this—General Ironwood, I mean. He'll hunt you down till the ends of Remnant and maybe even past that. Specialist Winter means a lot to him. And for what you did to her sister, Winter will come for you too. You can count on that."

I paced in place, excited at the idea that I would meet Winter again. "I'll be sure to return the sword sticking out of my guts when I do meet up with her again—minus the blood."

The soldier snorted, handing me Derek's revolver before shooing me off. I jumped to the windowsill, ignoring the crackling sound under my feet as I stepped over the fragments of glass, and walked off the edge.

As the air rushed past me in my descent, I overheard Del's goodbye.

"Fucking White Fang."

—

AN: I was always playing with the idea of incorporating a Beserker side to the OC, but I wanted to have a little twist to its implementation. So when Terra goes dark, having no recollection of events during the period, I'm having him come to the conclusion that when said darkness occurs, he goes into a Beserker state. But in actuality, its different side of Terra with his own ambitions.

I tried to make everything more "suited" to the past and reality by having a not-as-disciplined Winter due to her being younger and giving some life to the Atlas soldiers. Hope it comes off decent. Thanks for reading!

Big thanks to Sgt Chrysalis for helping me flesh out the chapter and Winter's dialogue (he's writing his own story too so make sure to check it out).


	18. Sound of the Sirens

**Chapter 18: Sound of the Sirens**

Even in my sluggish state, blots of darkness slowly overtaking my vision, I could still register electrifying sparks of tension sprinkled throughout the air. Each time I separated my lips, greedily gulping down shallow breaths of air, the blade speared deep into my stomach twisted agonizingly. Lurching forward at the sword's sudden shift, my knees slammed onto the ground. A layer of dust kicked back at the forceful movement, enveloping my entire being with a thin coat of dirt. The unavoidable howl that came from my lips went unnoticed in the illuminated room, far too ordinary to hear over the frenzied bickering already transpiring. Tenderly caressing the mangled mess of loose skin, I superficially pieced back together the hanging flesh.

I licked the roof of my mouth, weighing the copper taste riding against my tongue and thought back on the defective life I lived.

Everywhere I went, no matter the world, I remained unwanted. My partner, the other-self I desperately clung to and protected over the years had yet even to begin acknowledging my worth. Whenever things turned sours, odds clearly stacked against the original Terra, control of this deformed body would slip unto me and with it, expectations that I was made to fulfill. While he delved into the recesses of our soul, unconsciously enjoying the forced slumber, I'm the one who is forced to bear the brunt of his failures.

Spitting out a glob of blood onto the ground, I curled my fingers into a fist and peered down at the newly formed pool of bodily fluids.

I can't do it anymore…being his shadow, I mean. Subjecting myself to an endless wait, hoping that one day he'd see me as something more than a threat. Convincing myself that it would only take time it's all pointless. The realization is starting to sink in. I finally know where I stand with him.

I tapped the puddle of blood, disturbing the wave-like reflection, and shakily stood up.

I'm tired of living for a person that despises me.

But, it wouldn't be fair to say that it was all bad. Those few and far in-between moments when I assumed control were magical. It doesn't matter that I was whisked back into my cage just as my tasks were fulfilled; to me, in those sparse minutes of dominance, I understood what being alive truly meant: feeling the sharp tearing of muscle when straining against your limits, embracing the wind's bold touch as it coils around the skin, and sizzling under the powerful sun's rays as you bathe in it's warm delight—I want it all and then some.

Except this time around, I refused to share it.

So that's why I don't mind you double-crossing White Fang bastards baring your fangs at me, acting like you're the one in the right. When I've given everything and received nothing in return, I can't help but think it's only natural given the events of my life. In a cruel sort of way, it's fitting.

Go ahead and yap on about how you're going to use me for your benefit when I'm standing just to the side of you. Make yourself feel better by showering me with pity-filled gazes while you "tearfully" condemn me to certain death by handing me off to a certain infamous General.

A man like him, the big bad Ironwood whose been the source of your misery, do you really expect him to call off his hounds once this charade is done with? Don't lie to yourself. What I've done… _ **what we've done**_ __ _could only be repaid with blood_ **.**

But don't think for a second the people of Atlas will be satisfied with just one measly teenaged Faunus when news comes out that one of their own was made to watch the killing of her mother.

With my thoughts dragging back to my previous life, I felt a tug at my lips.

I've seen it countless times—people far too stubborn and stupid to leave behind the only life they knew. Hiding in the buildings, holding family and friends dearly as they push the window's curtains just far enough to the side to catch sight of the soldiers storming the slums called home. It won't do any good, not when they set your whole world ablaze with all your furry friends included.

My hands slinked to the burdensome mask covering my face before unclasping the hooks that held it in place. The offending veil fell to the ground, splashing against the murky colored puddle.

The White Fang, RWBY, and even Terra—I don't need them anymore. I was only given a second chance because someone saw something in me. They saw that I was worthy of a life that was my own to live—that I'm strong enough to realize my ambition!

I refuse to waste away in that mind-numbing cage, losing the one kindness ever given to me. Without a shred of hesitance, I ripped the gloves covering my skin. Hold back? No point, not when my dreams lie elsewhere. The only that matters to me is the person that'll grant my finale—no one else.

There's no coming back from this. The thought drives a stake into my feet, rooting my body in place before it's washed away by a wave of pure exhilaration at the coming times.

It's finally time to stop running away from the truth. This semblance—it's ability to drag out the most painful members of those I've touched—it's a part of me. Thank you, whoever that may be, for entrusting me with this gift.

From here on out, it'll be my chapter.

It began with a sickening crunch, my fist sailing across the room before finding its snug place just at the bridge of a nose on one of the more mouthier Faunus. As we parted, a stream of blood coating the ground between us, a familiar tendril of translucent energy playfully circled my forearm. I watched at how it slinked upwards, coiling around my arm before diving mischievously under my skin. As my surroundings slowly distorted, morphing into a scene remarkably similar to that of a dimly lit warehouse, a heavy sensation weighed down on my tongue. Two names hung tortuously on the appendage, painfully searing my senses as heart-wrenching images of playful toddlers flashed before my eyes.

Twins…the children of this man. Idealistic siblings who were brought into this world as a pair, dreaming of a future even their father thought was impossible. My sight shifted downward, landing on two redheads who were dressed in standard White Fang attire. Their bodies lay slumped against a wall, a poetic smear of crimson dashed behind them. Hands that were not my own stretched out to met them, an undeniable quiver in its movements. Grazing the circular holes that riddled their uniforms, coarse hands brushed against the pale faces lovingly whispering a final goodbye. A soul shattering cry echoed in the air, expelling me from the intimate scene. Blown back at the hypnotizing wail, I could only stand from afar and watch as the building crumbled atop the ruined family.

"Garret." My body convulsed at the name, shivers running down my spine. "Mia". An icy breath came forth and brought me back to the present.

The Faunus clutching his broken nose looked straight, an indescribable expression riding his face. The once frazzled eyes twisted in confusion, brightening slightly before returning to its usual muddy hue. A broken yell came from the man, demanding the attention of the room's occupants.

He staggered forward, refusing his worried companions help, and made his way towards me. Oblivious to the blood that dripped down his face, he remained fixated on me—never wavering from his intense stare. Standing at least a head over me, he knelt down to my height before asking a single question.

"Those names…where did you hear them?" There was an undeniable tremor to his voice.

Summoning all the latent charisma I could muster, I craned my neck upwards and reciprocated the stare.

"I remember them all…Every Faunus whose suffered in this cruel war, their names are carved into my soul." Moving past him, I limped to the side of a woman and reached out for her hand.

"Waver, a lover that was cruelly taken away from you…" A sob rang out, the young woman hiccuping out a 'yes'. The soft murmuring that played out in the beginning had died out, replaced by an eery silence as onlookers watched on in muted astonishment.

A teenaged boy this time. He pushed himself forward, skepticism clearly written on his face as he eyed me warily. My hand landed on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart before separating. "Raid, an older brother. He loved you very much." The boy stumbled back at my words, allowing for another to come up in his place.

This time, a bulky man standing over six feet tall shoved himself to the front. Slamming the obscenely large slab of metal he carried on his back point-first into the ground.

"No games."

I pieced together a thin smile, a touch of seriousness lifting my cheeks. "Only truth." Touching the offered arm, two shadows came into sight. "Boris and Yanni, parents to a toddler whose all grown up." He seemed to be satisfied with my comment, nodding an affirmative before once again hefting the crude sword and leaving to the corner of the room.

As I moved along the room, limping from one Faunus to another, transparent figures of those long passed appeared in the edges of my vision with a soft look reining in their eyes. As they stared at me with misplaced admiration, a cacophony of voices suddenly filled my head stunning me in place.

Basking in their sweet words, I had carelessly forgotten what I feared the most. I heard its torturous screech, demanding my obedience. The cry I've heard so many times—it's calling out to me.

The cage wanted its prisoner back, and I'm in no state to refuse it.

Feeling it's vile hooks on my mind, I summed up my feelings into one coherent thought and collapsed onto the ground.

"I'll be back."

—

AN: One more chapter then timeship time. Thanks for sticking around and reading. Hope you enjoy.


	19. Admiration

**Chapter 19: Admiration**

My heart drummed a desperate beat, fastening its pace once clarity descends upon me. Clawing my way out of the folds of linen sheets stacked atop my bruised body, I hefted myself out from the fabric's smooth embrace and onto the chilling marble floor.

And then I felt it…an unbridled amount of shame bubbling to life within this cursed body of mine, completely smothering the blissful thoughts that soothed me in my slumber.

I had conviction.

I had determination.

I had resolution.

 _I had everything to make this second chance a success!_

 **So why did I fail?**

I pawed at the bandages neatly pressed over my chest, feeling the tightly wound ends in my hands before unbinding them. Even I could tell that whoever put these binds on me did so with care. Furling it into a ball, I tossed the stained cloth to the side.

I didn't deserve such a gift.

Pushing down the stabbing pain stretching across my exposed abdomen, I trotted out from the room I had awakened from and into a populated hall. As I followed along the long strip of red carpet laid out before me, shoulders sagging under the air's thick presence, I couldn't help the sluggish sway that accompanied my body.

With each step, the muffled cries of disgust echoing around me grew louder. Though their tanned faces turned a shade paler as took in my sight, they refused to avert their eyes.

Even though my body screamed in protest, muscles aflame, I walked towards the door that hopefully held the answers I needed.

 _How did I get here?_

 _What happened in Atlas?_

 _ **Is Weiss alive?**_

Two mask-wearing Faunus stood at attention at the far end of the hall, their pointed ears sparking to life once they saw my ragged form hobbling towards them. One of them, a taller and seemingly more experienced woman, took her hand into the sky and waved a familiar gesture.

I bit my lip, burying the intense pain scarring my mind and moved closer.

The woman peered on undisturbed at my growing pace, again motioning for me to halt my advance. And as she did so, a slight glimmer came to her eyes.

"Marked. No weapons," she said.

Distinct voices called out to me, each somberly humming words of thanks as they etched their mark onto me. As the voices whispered their stories, an icy realization crept forth—I couldn't recognize any of them.

Like a scared child, panic gripping at the heart, my mind leaped to the only person that I could think of that held the solution to my problems.

"Sienna." I shuddered at the sound of her name, a newfound obsession taking hold.

The younger of the two looked towards her mentor, a sliver of fear filling her movements as she tugged the coattails of the person she trusted. The Faunus raised her hand once more, this time fulfilling the movement with a noticeable amount of urgency. Her eyes had narrowed, wariness slipping within the heated turquoise orbs. She stepped forward, distancing herself from her protege, and readied the old-fashioned spear in her hands.

"Step back, Ava."

My hands caressed my face, an involuntary movement that just screamed of desperation. I bent back, feeling the pulse of my heart as my lungs became filled with air. In one swift and excruciating movement, I shoved my chest forward and released a bloodcurdling scream for all to hear.

" **SIENNA!"**

The two flinched at my perceived threat, the youngest of them scurrying off to cover behind one the many ornate pillars. The stony-faced brunette remained unperturbed at her station, wrapping her digits around the spear's shaft. She twirled the spear in a grandiose manner, afterimages of the White Fang flag adorning the spear's shaft breathing to life as if offering a final warning with the display of her skill. Slamming the butt of the weapon onto the ground, the shawl wrapped her shoulders billowed at the dissipating current of air.

"Stand down, son. The High Leader doesn't wish to be disturbed." She straightened her back, having no qualm accentuating the height difference between us.

The sneer I sent the woman convinced her of her failure in trying to persuade me. Dropping the superficial pacifist approach, she bent her knees and adopted a crouching position fixing the blade in my direction.

Standing still, patiently waiting out the tense seconds between us, she held her ground content with observing my frenzied state.

…

There was no intelligence in what I did—barreling toward her with arms stretched out as if I was a drunken bastard intent on strangling her. She responded accordingly, grunting a salute as she lashed out with a violent thrust of her spear.

Just managing to avoid getting skewered, I doubled down on my assault and stepped absurdly close to the woman and took hold of the midsection of the spear's shaft. She struggled, fighting tooth and nail over reclaiming control of the weapon, but in my fixated state I succeeded in pushing her against the door she was guarding.

I remember grunting, an unordinary amount of spittle leaving my clenched mouth as I drudged up all the remaining strength still left in this body of mine. The woman did the same, muscles flexing as she tried to fend off my concentrated desire.

We stayed like that—face to face—for seconds, a contest of wills raining between us until a thick crack sounded out. The door gave way, both of us stumbling to the ground while the spear we fought over-shot off into the distance.

And then for the first time in many months, I saw her—sitting majestically at the top of her throne as she allowed those kneeling before her to speak.

"Sienna."

Relief poured out, a momentary lightness that managed to abate my fears. I drew my hand out, oblivious to its slight bend at the wrist, and reached out to the woman who stood so far away.

Her amber eyes looked toward the source of the disturbance, eyebrows curled up in annoyance. I felt my breath hitch, my body stunned in place as she scoured her chambers.

The moment our eyes met, everything just faded away. The defenses I've built up all my life, forced to keep up at every trying instance—it all disappeared.

My throat felt clogged, a current of indescribable emotions preventing me from speaking.

I had so many things to say.

Questions.

Pleas.

Curses.

But, I couldn't.

I watched Sienna rise from her throne, effortlessly weaving between the Faunus prostrated at her feet. I saw how her cape billowed behind her, exposing the numerous tattoos that so brazenly spoke of her proud lineage. I saw how her piercing look forced back the encroaching White Fang guards.

She skipped across the room, gracefully closing the distance between us, until claiming the spot mere inches from where I laid.

Feeling a sharp tingling in my eyes, I averted her gaze.

"Terra."

My ears rose slightly at the way she said my name, an odd sensation coursing through my body. With my head still held to the floor, I finally laid myself bare—Sienna deserved that much at least.

"This wasn't what I wanted." I went back on the promise I made to myself, losing control when it counted the most.

"I'm worthless!" Everything I touch changes for the worse.

"I shouldn't have existed." What point is there for me to struggle when everyone would be better off without me.

"I want to die." The truth finally comes out.

For the first time in years, laying in the High Leader's chambers with my head to the floor, I cried.

An all-time low for me.

"That's a lie." Her voice cut through the air, rocketing me from the depression that had threatened to swallow me whole. Bringing me close, nuzzling my head to her beating chest, she said something I wouldn't dare to forget.

"Right here…," she cupped my face, delicately placing her hand just below my puffy eyes and said, "These tears…they say, ' I want to live'".

I blinked my eyes, feeling the warm liquid run down my cheeks.

 _Is it okay? Is it really okay for me to keep on living—to keep on trying?_

 _I want to believe that my life has worth. Maybe I still have a chance at saving this world even with all the mistakes I've made._

 _Thank you for believing in me—for being a constant in my life._

 _I won't forget the kindness you've shown me, Sienna._

* * *

 **Three Years Later**

* * *

It doesn't make much sense being here, sitting with an aerial view over the rows and columns of fledgling White Fang members, but someway or another, my body would always find its place here. Sienna wasn't particularly pleased with my choice, chiding me for wasting so much time when it could be better spent replicating the forms and movements she had so graciously instructed me to follow; but Ava, the young Faunus who had yanked my tail all those years ago, had for some unfathomable reason decided to make her presence a regularity, often accompanying me in my pointless ventures.

"Ughh, they're doing it again," she drawled out.

Nudging my shoulder, she pointed off into the distance at the two combatants beginning to square off. With a slight twinge of disgust marring the dainty voice I've heard so often, she revealed her brutally honest thoughts.

"If that were me, Master Yana would've had me hanging by her spear. The way they fight,…it's so juvenile. No technical skill in the slightest." She sighed, emptying a puff of chilly air out into the world before resting her platinum-colored head onto my shoulder. "It's like looking at a reflection of who I used to be."

Suddenly, she rose up to her full height, escaping my embrace. With a degree of viciousness I've yet to see matched, her hands ripped through the air and began to tussle with the unruly hair resting at the top of her head.

"AGH! It's all just so frustrating seeing something like this. One minute I'm relaxing with you, enjoying a beautiful night on the town— _which we should totally do more often—_ and the next I'm thinking about how cringe I used to be. Stupidity, inexperience, and stupidity all rolled into one embarrassing, albeit beautiful, package. I mean, yeah I know better now, but it still makes me want to curl up into a ball just thinking about it.

She ended with a loud huff, defiantly crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Brushing the dust most-likely clumped on the back of my ill-maintained pants, I followed in her footsteps and stood up.

"I like the way they fight." From the technical standpoint, they were the lowest of the low—just children beginning to learn the ways of actual combat. Despite their flaws, when looking at how enthusiastically they threw themselves into their training, I can't help but feel my body hum in delight.

Ava floundered, confused at my apparent fondness for the budding troops. "But, they suck."

"They do!" A deep chuckle echoed in my throat, briefly halting my much-needed explanation. "But the way they're fighting, it's honest. No feints, no tricks, no nothing. Just a simple contest of wills between the two fighters—something we've all come to know at least once in our lives."

She looked at me oddly, mulling over my words before once again renewing her sights on the battling trainees. "If you say so…"

Feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over me, I smiled to myself.

I smiled to myself, a wave of satisfaction renewing my spirits. Just Ava thinking my words over was more than enough for me.

Just then, a sudden breeze enveloped us. Bits of scattered leaves filled our vision, momentarily blinding us with its dull vermillion color. Without any hesitation, I curled my fingers along the metal links slung by my side and whipped the chain at the unexpected visitor.

"Good. Not near my level, but good nonetheless." She playfully flung the weighted end of my chain and sickle into the sky, rocketing the device into the palm of my hand.

"Three years will do that." We stared at each other, both of us refusing to be the first to back down.

Ava began fidgeting off to the side, subtly poking me behind my back as if she were begging me to stop with this nonsense I so greatly enjoyed. I guess from an outsider's perspective, our little showdown must've been quite the spectacle.

Seeing a crack in her stony expression, I broke out into a smile and stalked forward. "What's this, High Leader Sienna losing to someone as weak and feeble as me? Oh, what dire straits the White Fang are in for!" That earned a scoff from Sienna, her amber eyes rolling in feigned indignation.

"It's my pupil's last day in Menagerie, so of course I'm going to let the little brat win. I mean, it's not like I could embarrass him in front of his precious friend." A dangerous glint appeared in her eyes. Wisely, I retreated a few steps back and begged for forgiveness.

"Ahah, no need for that! Ava and I were just talking about how kind and merciful our great leader was— _is."_

Picking up on my subtle cue, Ava frantically nods her head and helpfully adds her own piece. "Yes, very merciful."

She smirked in satisfaction, visibly pleased at how I backtracked. She turned away, her cape tossing into the wind, and beckoned for me to follow. "I've thought about it, you know. Relentlessly mulling over my thoughts for the reason why you would leave your— _our_ —home and travel such a great distance to Vale."

I could hear frustration seeping into her voice, Closing my eyes, I listened with all my heart.

"There's nothing a Huntsman School can teach you that I can not. So that begs the question, why leave my side to bother with them.

"I have…no, I want to." These past years had changed me. No longer did I view my desire as a burden.

She peered backward, a tense expression on her face before sighing. "So sure of himself, stubborn as if he were an Ox Faunus…fool." I flinched at the insult, drawing back like a whimpering dog.

"I-I've made arrangements. The guards—they've been vetted and trained well. You would hardly know I'm missing—

Using her knuckles, she knocked on my head. "Foooooool. I'm supposed to be the caretaker in this relationship, not the other way around. Quit worrying about me when I'm not the one going into a den full of vipers."

Sheepishly rubbing the back of my neck, I apologized.

"At least take Ava with you, the poor girl would be so lonely with you gone." From the corner of my eyes, I could see Ava jumping up and down while giving a thumbs up to Sienna.

"Guilt-tripping me won't work this time, Sienna." Maybe Ava and I could pass off as a pair similar to the already established Ren and Nora, but how would her presence there affect the team selection process? Throwing Ava into the mix was too risky of a move.

Pretending not hearing the tches coming from Sienna and Ava, I sped my pace until I was by my mentor's side.

Piecing my bubbling emotions into words, I said, "Thank you for everything. The training, the guidance, and the care you've put into me in these three years. I'm in a brighter place because of you, mother."

Winding her hand, she slapped me square on my back. "Head up. A Khan doesn't bow their head so easily." Obeying her advice, I straightened my back and looked forward at what the future had to hold.

And the future I saw was incomplete.

Sienna wasn't there.

"It doesn't matter if this iteration of the White Fang dies. As long as you're still alive, Sienna, it can be revived." Prioritize your safety above everything else. Adam's betrayal is a certainty, something even I can't change, but your life doesn't have to end there used as a stepping stone for a deranged murderer. With the old guard disposal of the old guard, the newly vetted one will take their place and stall long enough for you to make your escape.

So run away when he strikes.

Run into the night and cling to life.

Together, you and I, will create your life's ambition.

So just wait for me.


	20. Lights

**Chapter 19.5: Lights**

"You don't have to worry about the pilot, he's one of ours." The figure crossed his legs, a certain level of audacity reining in his movements that could only possibly be achieved through countless hours of repetition. My hands twitched, muscles tensed and waiting expectantly for something to happen.

"I hope you don't mind, we just had to meet you." The smugness fitted in his voice brazenly beckoned for an answer. Did they think the years I spent under Sienna's tutelage had made me soft? Mercilessly gripping the handle directly above me, I leered at the two annoyances.

"What brother says is true. Your feats are known by many in the circles we share."

Feeling the last vestiges of my patience run dry, I opened my mouth and let my hoarse voice roam free. "I don't appreciate having to entertain two stowaways."

The Faunus with the pointy ears let out a shrill laugh, enveloping the airship with his nasally tone.

Inserting himself back into the conversation, the pompous man gave a halfhearted apology. "Forgive us, Sentinel, but my brother and I are at a crossroad in our lives. We hope you could alleviate some of our worries and share some insight into our situation."

"Oh?" I raised my eyebrows, feigning interest in what they had to say. Subtly maneuvering my hand closer to the weapon I had at my side, I bit back with a simple question. "And what makes you think I have the answers you seek?"

Playfully shaking his finger, the elder Faunus corrected me. "Not answers, _guidance."_

I couldn't help the crinkle in my eyes. I wasn't suited in conversing with these political types—countless sects in the White Fang, always scheming and conniving their next move. Sienna would have already dismissed these rabble with but one glance.

Painfully gripping my armrests, I amended my statement. "Ah yes, guidance. My apologies."

The man unfurled a grin, shamelessly taking pleasure in my restrained anger. "The fault lies with us as well for not properly articulating our wishes. Nevertheless, we wish to converse. Is such an arrangement suitable for you?"

Of course not, you mongrel. But it's not like I could refuse when I'm trapped in this metal bucket with you disgusting lot. Waving my hand in acceptance, I implored the man to speak his say.

He hummed in approval, obnoxiously clapping his hands together. "Glad to see civility is not wasted on such a rising star in the White Fang organization." He cleared his throat and began his introduction. "You may be young in age, but one would have to be foolish to think the same of you in spirit. At such an age, capturing the budding Sienna Khan's attention when she was but a mere candidate for the throne—truly inspirational."

The man to his side, leaned forward, eyes glistening ominously. Without any warning, he interrupted his companion.

" **But that's just the beginning."**

Noticing my unease, the original speaker gently placed his hand on the interloper's shoulder. "Settle down now, brother." He shifted in his seat, once again crossing his legs. "But yes, what my brother speaks is true—this was just the beginning for you. For nights on end, endlessly racking my head, I thought to myself of how you managed to avoid death when sent out an impossible mission by our beloved Khan. Such a thing shouldn't have been possible, and yet, here you stand before me. _It's fascinating."_

I felt my body shiver at how he accented his parting remark. "And what of it?" I pushed back, refusing to be once again on the receiving end.

The Faunus smiled coyly at me. "They call you a savior, you know. For some obscure reason, the Atlas Branch seem to hold you in high regard. Even the little Faunus girl we picked up in our travels has heard of your eccentric tales."

Ridding himself of his hood, he peered into my eyes. "And what you did after establishing yourself as a pillar in the White Fang organization only cements my opinion of you.

Decisive.

Pragmatic.

And above-all, vicious."

I hated games like these—constantly guessing what the opponent knew of me. I settled into my seat, mulling over my options. Play along or force my hand.

"Tell me, how merciless do you have to be to dispose of a generation of warriors whose sole purpose was to protect our High Leader?"

Closing my eyes, I thought back to that bloody night.

"So you know."

Lazily throwing his hands into the air, he scoffed. "Everyone knows, but you'd be hard-pressed to find any willing to talk about it. Slaughtering such an impressive amount of Faunus won't go unnoticed—especially for a prestigious group such as the Old Guard."

Sighing before speaking, I said, "They were disloyal." I still remembered the way they turned their blades toward Sienna when Adam marched himself into her chambers—unforgivable. It was well within my right to replace faulty pieces.

"I knew we were right in speaking with Sienna's dog, brother!" The quiet brother rattled in his seat.

"Right indeed, brother." The two men nodded, pleased expressions visible on their faces.

Leaning back into their seats, the two men finally revealed their secrets. "The young eat the old. Though barbaric, it's only natural given the continuous flow of ideals that run through our organization. We were certain the same would happen with High Leader Khan just as it had been done to Ghira, but is it possible that a young upstart like you would be able to prolong or even thwart such an episode?"

They rubbed their chins in thought before disrupting the eery silence with a sharp exclamation.

"Ah! I just realized something, brother. It appears we have forgotten to introduce ourselves."

"How rude of us."

The talkative one took it upon himself to correct the grievance, filling the air with his somber voice. "I am Corsac Albain and this one here, my brother, is called Fennec Albain. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Terra Khan."

My breath hitched, memories from my past life dwindling into my mind. Their appearance, mannerisms, and names were all vaguely familiar. Feeling a rage bubbling beneath my annoyed exterior, I tore at the formalities chaining our meeting.

"What do you want?" I didn't bother hiding my intent, hands already clutching the metal chains slinked around my waist.

For the first time, Corsac frowned. "Patience needs some work." Pretending not to hear the brother snicker, I repeated myself.

" _What do you want?"_

Their eyes bolted to mine, boldly matching my stare. In a surprising moment of synchronization, the brothers voiced out their desires.

" **The betterment of the White Fang.**

And we are seeing—

—If you are the one to do so."

They suddenly bent their backs, their flushed faces panting. "There must be two…always two. A counterbalance like what Chieftain Ghira had with his mistress, Kali. You must know that a shadow must never abandon its duties. So why?… W _hy did you selfishly leave High Leader Sienna's side in her time of need!?"_

Because if I hadn't, our dream would crumble.

" _ **What part of you made Sienna do what she did?**_ "

Such a nostalgic question, one I've been asking myself in these three years.. It was frustrating to be at its mercy, constantly drudging up the worst of my insecurities. I've wondered why she took a shine to me, extending her hand to someone as distorted as me.

What did Sienna see in me?

Was it because we were the same, wishing for something that had no right to exist. Was it because we were both broken, hoping that with each other, we would be filled?

What sparked her love?

I could only guess.

I don't know why she did what she did, taking me under her wing when even I had given up on myself and this world we lived in.

And with what I've learned over these few but plentiful years is that maybe I don't need to know.

I'm not the person I was. Raging against the world, writhing in self-pity as I tore my body to shreds—that's not who I am anymore. I'm just a person that so desperately wants to return the kindness offered to me.

It took a while to figure out, but somewhere along this weary road, I realized that I'm not alone. That no matter where I go, I could still feel her soft touch spread across my back.

 _Pushing me forward—_

 _To a future—_

 _Where everyone could experience this warmth._

I could only answer with a far-off look.

He drew back, eyes slowly drawing to a close as he contemplated my response. Hours passed by without a single word being said, only the deep hum of the airship keeping us company. I'm not sure what he expected from our interaction, but strangely, I felt satisfied.

Once the airship stalled, the low humming dwindling to nothing more than metallic sputtering, I knew the finale of our business had commenced. In a breathtaking moment, light poured into the cabin. It was time for me to leave.

Jumping down to the ground below, I landed in a field of brightly colored green vegetation.

"We'll be watching."

I'm not sure how I heard them through the airship revving back to life, but as I looked up, I saw the brothers watching me from afar as they drifted off into the sky.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 20: Cover**

"Are ye dim, boy?"

The question catches me off-guard, the sheer audacity spewing from the old man's mouth rendering me temporarily mute.

"Thirty-five. Thirrrrty-five. A bit smaller than last year, but thats how many slots are up for grabs. Just 'cause Beacon needs 200 bodies don't mean they gonna their lower standards for those Hunter-wannabes that attended prep school.

Prep school…? Was the crazy, old coot talking about schools like Signal?

"Either public fills 'em, or they stay empty. So sign your name or scram. You're ruining business." I could see his cheeks color as he hurled an ultimatum towards me, droplets of spittle soiling the oak table between us.

My tail thrashed against my back, silently pleading for a promise of violence against the old man. Responding to its wish, I inched forward.

"I'm bad for business? Because I'm a Faunus?" I ran my thumb along the tips of my fingers, searching the corners of my mind for any mention of a racist Beacon representative. This was surprisingly new.

The man bent back as if struck, an astonished look on his normally hard face. I watched at how his face turned morphed into a red ball, eyes glistening with unspoken rage. Instinctively, I threw my leg outward, slamming the side of the table straight into the elder's protruding gut as he barreled towards me with arms outstretched.

With pain lining his voice, he whimpered out a string of curses."Calling me a racist…I oughta wring your scrawny neck. Fuckin' kid talking to me like that." He spat out a glob of blood, rubbing the sleeve of his ragged shirt against his yellow teeth. "I just don't want no kid dressed up in bandages scaring off my applicants—ain't gonna let my pay get docked. No one wants to be around when some reject mummy be crowdin my stand."

My lips curled up in amusement, finding the man's words too humorous to maintain my blank facade. Me, an assassin? Sienna would be on the ground, rolling around in a fit of laughter if she ever heard such a joke.

"Initials okay, old timer?"

I could tell he wanted to say something else, perhaps another curse or two, but eventually, he flipped me off before handing me a pen. Guess I was more trouble than I was worth. "Yeah, yeah—not like you got a chance at making it. Just make sure you sound off when they start calling off names tomorrow at 8 in the morning in the Warehouse district.

With a quick swipe of the pen, I jotted down the initials of the next identity I would assume. The old man peered over, edging himself closer to steal a look at what I had written.

"S.D.R," he mouthed over the words, finding the odd combination of letters distasteful. "Bet it's a shit name."

I couldn't help but agree. All names paled in comparison to the one Sienna had given me—Terra Khan just felt natural.

Tossing the pen back to the red-faced overseer, I took off into the commercial district of Vale, meandering through the countless packed stores.

This was it—the start of something grand.

In a few days, players from all around Remnant would descend upon this Kingdom, each with their own dreams and aspirations not knowing the trials that lay in store for them.

A dust store comes into sight, its transparent windows showcasing a collection of valuable dust products. The shopkeeper waved a gentle hello as I passed by, beckoning for me to take a look at his wares.

I moved on, ignoring the shaking in my arms.

From afar, I could see a childishly drawn sign that read "OPEN". Curious by the sudden thrashing of my heart, I peeked through the layers of dust that piled against the window and saw a middle-aged man stacking books one on top of each other.

Ripping myself from the familiar sight, I stalked forward and disappeared back into the crowd. One more…just need to do one more thing before I start. Finding myself a mostly secluded alley, I leaned against a grimy wall and inched myself downward.

I remember waiting there for hours, mentally going through all the relevant information I could muster up from my memories. The dust shop, the catalyst that brought Ruby out into the world, Tukson's Book Trade, the introduction to Emerald and Mercury—all important events on their own, but ultimately too chaotic for me to insert myself into RWBY's storyline without altering the team's placements

So where did that leave me?

Bouncing my head against the alley's stony wall, I said, "Junior's Bar." I just had to wait until nightfall before making me move. It wouldn't do to attract any unwanted attention when there's a Glynda roaming about in the town.

And so I waited, passing the time by humming a soft tune I had heard so often from Sienna.

Once night had fallen, I picked myself up and wandered to the crumpling remains of the once prestigious nightclub that had captivated the hearts of Vale's youth population. As I walked amongst the wreckage, loud crackles of glass shattering sounded off at my feet. Whistling appreciatively, I surveyed the decimated bar.

Yang sure did a number on this place.

My admiring came to an end once a bearded vest-wearing man threw a glass in my direction. "If you couldn't tell, bars closed."

"I'm here for information, not drinks."

"Still closed." Junior turned his back, beginning to busy himself with the broom he held in his hands.

"Just point me in a direction and I'll be on my way."

He whirled around, his face seething at my persistence. "Oh really? Then that way, straight out of my fucking bar!"

Putting a smile on my face, I pleaded to the bar owner. "Reconsider, Junior. It's important."

Hurdling the broom across the room, Junior let out a scream. "That's it. That's fucking it! First that blonde-haired devil, now I got some mummy-looking motherfucker starting shit with me. No way is Junior Xiong going to start letting people walk all over him. MILTIA! MELANIE! Get your asses over here, now!"

Hearing the sound of heels striking against the floor, I tilted my head toward the disturbance.

"Ready for round two, blonde bit…I don't know you." Retracting the blades at her feet, she craned her neck toward her employer. "Friend of yours, Junior?"

"Would I bother with calling you two if this guy was a friend? Get him!" Things were looking rather unpleasant, Junior already looking for blood within a few minutes of meeting him. I don't get it, Ava always complimented me on my personality.

Flicking her hair, the teenage girl drawled out, "But like, what did he do? Not like he could've trashed this place up anymore than the blonde girl did. It's already a dump."

"Mi-Miltia." The girl by Miltia's side uttered out a name, carefully grasping at the skirt of her sister's dress.

"Doesn't matter. He pissed me off so that's all you need to know."

" _Whatever._ Guy's got a creepy smile anyway." Once again unfurling her weapons, she sauntered my way. Why was it that so many women in my life wore heels on a regular basis?

"Oh? My mother quite likes my smile." Whenever I showed it to her, she would always slap my back and congratulate me for having the best and brightest smile out of all the White Fang.

"Yeah, well, no offense but your mom must be pretty retarded—sorry not sorry." Stretching her back, she said, "Let's hurry this up Melanie, there's a box of ice cream waiting for us."

"Miltia!" The teenager with the white dress squeaked something out again, but for the life of me, I couldn't find it in me to laugh at her obnoxiously high-pitched voice. Retarded? Her voice echoed in my head, endlessly mocking the person who saved me from myself. _Why?…Why say something like that?_

Covering the distance, my hand clamped down on the offending teenager's mouth. I brought her close, exerting the barest of pressure ensuring she wouldn't escape, and playfully whispered, " **Extras should be quiet.** "

By the time her twin had clawed at me, I had already retreated to Junior's side.

"You fucking cocksucker!" The mascara painted along her eyes had begun to drip down her cheeks, staining her pale skin. "I'll force feed you your own tail!" She struggled in her sister's hold, trashing wildly like a feral beast.

Halfheartedly covering my ears at the sharp whining, I repeated my request to Junior.

"I need information. Can you help me, _Junior?"_

The bartender nodded, downing an unnamed alcoholic drink before stiffly resting his elbows on the counter. "What can I do for you?" He threw out one of his hands, motioning for the twins to back down.

Clapping my hands excitedly at Junior giving into my request, I said, "Just something simple—I need a map with all the possible routes Beacon's first-years would use to get to the airships."

He looked at me oddly, squinting his onyx eyes, before reaching behind the counter and drudging up a dusty map of Vale. "Simple enough. Hold on for a second, I'll mark them down for you."

Curiosity getting the better of me, I asked him a question. "Aren't you going to ask what it's for?"

"I've been in the business long enough to know that that's a bad idea. But, I gotta ask kid, what's White Fang doing in this part of town?"

"Oh? What gave you that idea?" Was it the way I acted, resorting to violence to get what I wanted? Or was it just the tail swishing at my backside?

"Call it a hunch. And consider your answer as a payment for my services." Straightening his tie, he looked at me expectantly.

"You're confused, Junior. I'm just an aspiring Huntsman."


End file.
